Tessa stumbled back from the safe and sank onto the edge of the desk. Memories from that day swelled up from where she kept them buried. Her mother on the hospital bed in the front room, Tessa peering up on her tiptoes to see her. The beeping of machines.
And then nothing but silence, because she was gone.
Tessa squeezed her eyes shut.
“I need your permission to look in the safe.”
The low rumble of his voice drew her from the depths of her grief. Tessa opened her eyes and through the shimmer of tears she saw him step closer to her. Caleb touched her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’ll be okay when we figure out where my father is.”
His eyes flared. Maybe it was because she had said “we.” She didn’t know. Even standing so close with a single man was so far out of her usual behavior that she wasn’t sure what to do about his nearness. Was it normal for her heart to feel like it was fluttering in her chest?
She wanted to compare Caleb Rourke to any other guy she knew from church, or from town. But the truth was he was nothing like any other guy she’d ever met.
Even back in high school he’d been in another league altogether—him and his brother Noah. Not that she would feel this way if it was Noah standing behind her. It had always been Caleb, even when they were kids she’d had a major crush on him.
The man standing in front of her right now wasn’t the Caleb she had known. This man was someone entirely different.
And she wasn’t sure if she could risk getting to know him.
“I’m going to look inside.” He turned to the safe and pulled the door open, revealing a single white card envelope the size of a piece of paper. Something delivered by courier.
“I remember when that showed up on the doorstep.” He handed it to her, and she looked at the address. “Dad got real weird about me not opening it.” Her father usually didn’t care if she opened bills or other mail.
“It’s all that’s in here, apart from that shoebox at the back.”
She shook her head. “What would he need to put in a safe?” As she asked the question aloud, she drew out a couple of papers.A full size photo in black and white and what looked like an invoice.
Caleb snatched the photo from her hands and looked at it. A hardness landed in his expression. His jaw flexed, and he stared at the image as if he could set it on fire with his gaze.
“What is it?”
“This is the man I’ve been hunting for months. Maybe even years.” He turned the image and showed her the grainy photo of an older white man with a suit and light colored hair. “Why does your father have a picture of him?”
She read the text on the invoice, but the addresses weren’t for people or businesses she recognized. The locations were nowhere near here. And who needed that much aluminum anyway? “I don’t understand any of this.”
She handed him the invoice, because if it was connected to the photo then he probably needed it. For his investigation. Which her father had information about. Tessa shook her head. Seriously, none of this made one lick of sense.
She reached into the safe and pulled out the shoebox, opening the lid on the desk so that she could go through it. “These are letters.” All of them small envelopes addressed to Ian Rourke. No return address. “Why does my father have letters for your grandfather?”
“Those are private.” Pops stood at the doorway. He strode over and took the shoebox, but not before Caleb pulled out an envelope.
He snatched the paper out and unfolded it. “Thank you for sending the photos of the boys’ baseball team this season. Wish we could have seen them play.” His head whipped up. “They’re alive?”
She glanced between the two men. “Who? Who is alive?”
The tension was back in Caleb. “My parents.”
Pops said, “We’re here to look for Tessa’s father. Not to drag up ancient history that needs to be left to lie where it was buried.”
“This is?—”
Pops looked at her. “Do you have one of those apps where you can track your dad’s phone?”
He’d completely cut across what Caleb had been saying. Disregarding his grandson almost entirely and turning to her. Maybe he was just worried about her father and what might have happened to him. Or Pops didn’t want to admit that he’d been keeping a secret from Caleb and his brother for years. If the number of letters in the shoebox was any indication, the communication had been going for some time.
Maybe even years.
