Finally, my fingers managed to grab one of the handles. I yanked it towards me with a sudden movement. The purse fell onto my lap just as Carol found a safe spot on the shoulder and stepped on the brake. The car stopped with a jolt.

“Are you going to explain what is going on?” Carol asked, her voice a mix of worry and frustration.

I didn’t answer. My eyes were fixed on the purse. It was definitely Donna’s, brown with gold details and her initials engraved: