Ezra

We both stare at the dress and jewelry on Wren’s bed while she cuddles in my lap as I sit on the chair by her dresser.

“You’re sure you didn’t bring back any of these?” I ask again.

She exhales shakily. “I think so. God, Ezra, I don’t know. If I say I’m sure, then how are these things here?”

“Has anything else happened? Anything that’s a bit suspicious?”

“No. Just this.” She sniffles. “Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

“There’s no way someone would ...