The mattress looked strange.
One corner was slightly higher than the rest.
Noah frowned.
He pressed his hand against it.
There was something underneath.
“Dad?”
Daniel didn't answer.
Noah lifted the mattress.
At first, he saw old newspapers.
Then a small cardboard box.
And then something pink.
He reached down and pulled it free.
It was a piece of fabric.
Old.
Faded.
Dirty.
The material was so fragile that Noah was afraid it would tear in his hands.
But then he saw something that made his heart stop.
Three tiny white flowers.
Hand-stitched into the corner.
Noah dropped to his knees.
“Dad…”
Daniel turned around.
“What is it?”
Noah couldn't speak for several seconds.
He lifted the fabric.
His hands were shaking.
“I think this belonged to Lily.”
Daniel stared at it.
The color slowly disappeared from his face.
He stepped closer.
Then he whispered:
“Don't touch anything else.”
Noah looked at him.
“Why?”
Daniel was staring at the fabric as though he had seen a ghost.
“Because we need the police.”
Twenty minutes later, police vehicles were parked outside the house.
Detective Claire Bennett arrived with two officers.
She had handled missing-person cases for years, but the moment she entered Harold's bedroom, her attitude changed.
The room was no longer an old man's bedroom.
It was a potential crime scene.
She photographed everything.
The mattress.
The fabric.
The floor.
The drawers.
The walls.
Then she carefully placed the fabric into an evidence bag.
Margaret arrived shortly afterward.
Noah watched her walk into the bedroom.
The detective showed her the embroidered fabric.
Margaret didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She simply stared at it.
