He gave me an address ten minutes away.

A locksmith.

When I arrived, the older man glanced from the keys to me.

“Those Liam’s?”

I set them on the counter.

“You tell me.”

He picked up the blue key.

“Oh. That’s Mrs. Palmer’s.”

I stared at him.

“Who is Mrs. Palmer?”

His face went blank.

Too blank.

“You should probably ask Liam.”

“I’ve been trying.”

The bell above the shop door jingled.

Liam walked in.

He looked at the keys on the counter, then at me.

“Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.”

The locksmith suddenly became fascinated by a display of padlocks.

I folded my arms.

“Who is Mrs. Palmer?”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck.

“Come with me.”

“No.”

“Meryl.”

“No more mystery tour. You can explain this right here.”

“I could.”

“Great.”

“But it won’t make sense.”

I stared at him.

He picked up the blue key.