The velvet was dusty, smelling of my mother’s dresser drawers and old cedar.

I walked over to the green plastic trash bin under the sink.

I stepped on the pedal, the lid swinging open to reveal the empty milk carton and the coffee grounds from breakfast.

I dropped the velvet jewelry box into the kitchen trash bin.

The heavy oak door of the interview room clicked shut, sealing out the hum of the detective division.

Detective Harris adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and laid a large, blue-lined map of Franklin County across the laminate table.