Page 66 of Close

“Of course,” Ruth said simply.“It’s yours now.It was your mother’s before you.”

Kari looked at the small leather bag with renewed wonder.“Mom’s?You never said—”

“You never asked,” Ruth pointed out.“Anna carried it for many years.When she died, it came back to me.Now it goes to you, as it should.”

Kari ran her fingers over the intricate beadwork, imagining her mother carrying this same pouch, touching these same beads.It created a connection that transcended death, a continuity she hadn’t expected to find.

“But to truly make it yours,” Ruth continued, “you must add something to it.Something personal.Something that represents your spirit.”

“What did Mom add?”

Ruth pointed to a small turquoise bead nestled among the traditional patterns.“This.She said it reminded her of the sky between worlds.”

Kari touched the bead gently.“I’ll have to think about what represents me.”

“Don’t think too hard,” Ruth advised.“The right thing will find you when it’s time.”

They sat in companionable silence as darkness claimed the desert, stars appearing one by one in the vast sky.Coyotes called in the distance, their voices rising and falling in ancient conversation.

Kari slipped the medicine pouch into her pocket, feeling its familiar weight against her side.A piece of her mother, a gift from her grandmother, a bridge between worlds she was only just beginning to understand.Whatever challenges lay ahead—whatever mysteries remained to be solved—she would face them with both aspects of herself: the detective’s rational mind and the deeper knowing that came from her heritage.