Page 64 of Sins of the Heart

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A black, rectangular box on the top shelf yielded a

detailed pictographic record of the killer’s escapades,

neatly organized with crisp cardboard dividers. Dagan

flipped through the photos, froze, flipped back.

He slid the picture from the box and studied it. It

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was old, with a wide, white stripe at the bottom. One

of those self-developing photos that had been popular

a few decades back. It showed a woman’s neck and

torso, but not her face. Her necklace was visible in the

open neck of her shirt. A silver pendant. An ankh.

Just like the one the homeless guy had described.

Just like the one Dagan remembered seeing around

the girl’s neck a decade ago. He studied the picture.

Same girl? Probably not. Lots of women wore jewelry,

and an Egyptian motif wasn’t an unusual choice. But

the wings and hornswere.

He remembered the way he’d leaned in close, the

feel of the heavy silver chain in his hand as he gathered

the pendant from between her breasts and lifted it for

a closer look.

You know what this symbol means?

It’s an ankh. The ancient Egyptian symbol of life.

Where did you get it?

Why d’you wanna know?She’d snapped, her anger

blatant armor against her fear. Then she’d finally admitted,From my mother.

Where did she get it?

Haven’t seen her since I was five. But if she shows

up out of the blue, I’ll be sure to ask.

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