On the desk sat a metal box.
Lucas stopped.
“That wasn’t there when I came with the attorney.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The box was rectangular and gray, with a small latch. No lock.
I opened it.
Inside were folders, a cassette tape, and a stack of envelopes.
The first folder held medical records belonging to Douglas’s mother. The second contained newspaper clippings about Andrew’s death. The third was labeled with a date.
October 1986.
I opened it.
There were copies of letters, telephone bills, and handwritten notes. Some were in Douglas’s mother’s handwriting. Others belonged to my mother.
Lucas stood beside me, reading over my shoulder.
The first note was dated October 14.
Douglas’s father came to the house today. He says Douglas intends to leave. He says Hannah is encouraging him. I told him he should speak to his son honestly. He said honesty would only make things worse.
