Vivian slid the photograph toward the witness stand.
Sloane did not touch it.
Her fingers stayed locked around my mother’s pearls, as if holding them tighter could somehow change where they had come from.
Grant had gone still behind his attorney.
The confidence he had carried into the courtroom was gone.
His mother stared straight ahead.
His father finally looked up.
Vivian rested one hand on the cream folder.
“Ms.
Avery, do you recognize the necklace shown in this photograph?”
Sloane glanced down.
“I suppose it looks similar.”
“Similar to what?”
“The necklace I’m wearing.”
Vivian nodded.
“The necklace you testified Grant Caldwell gave you because it belonged to his family?”
“Yes.”
Her answer came more quickly this time, like speed could turn it into truth.
Vivian picked up another page.
“This photograph accompanies a professional appraisal prepared for Mrs.
Caldwell before her mother’s death.”
Grant’s attorney stood.
“Objection.”
Vivian waited.
After a brief exchange, the judge allowed her to continue establishing the foundation for the document.
I kept my eyes on Sloane.
For most of the morning, she had performed softness beautifully.
Her voice had trembled at exactly the right moments.
Her shoulders had curved inward when she described being afraid of me.
She had looked toward Grant whenever she needed reassurance.
Now the performance was slipping.
Vivian asked, “Did you ever meet Mrs.
Caldwell’s mother?”
“No.”
“Did Grant ever tell you where this necklace came from?”
“I already answered that.
His family.”
“Which member of his family?”
Sloane hesitated.
Grant’s attorney shifted again.
“I don’t remember.”
Vivian opened the appraisal to its attached photograph and held it where Sloane could see it.
“My client’s mother owned this strand.
After her death, it passed to my client.
The appraisal includes photographs of the necklace, its clasp, its length, and identifying characteristics documented before your relationship with Mr.
Caldwell became relevant to this case.”
Sloane swallowed.
The necklace around her throat suddenly looked less like a trophy and more like evidence.
Vivian did not raise her voice.
“Are you still saying the pearls you are wearing belonged to Grant Caldwell’s family?”
Sloane looked toward Grant.
That was her second mistake.
Until then, the court had been watching me for instability.
Now everyone watched him.
Grant’s face told Sloane nothing useful.
His mouth was tight, his eyes fixed on the table in front of him.
