Chapter 2: The Photograph in His Wallet
Part 2 — continued in comments ⬇️
Carol's fingers were still shaking when she grabbed my arm a second time.
"I said take it off.
Right now."
"Carol." Michael's voice was low.
"Let go of her."
She didn't.
Mr.
Harrison hadn't moved.
He was still looking at the silver button on my sleeve.
His jaw was tight.
"I'll ask you again," he said, turning to Carol.
"Where did she get that dress?"
"I told you.
A thrift store." Carol's voice cracked.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet.
From behind a folded receipt, he took out a small photograph.
Old.
Black and white.
He held it up.
A woman in a dark dress.
The same style.
The same tiny silver buttons.
"That's my wife," he said quietly.
"She went missing thirty-one years ago.
Along with everything she owned."
The room didn't breathe.
Carol let go of my arm.
Michael looked at his mother.
"Mom."
She stepped back.
Once.
Twice.
"I don't know what you're implying—"
"Carol." Mr.
Harrison's voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"I'm not implying anything yet."
He looked at me.
"Where exactly did you find this dress?"
---
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What Carol said next made Michael walk out of his own retirement party.
The full story is in the link below — and the truth is worse than anyone in that room expected.
