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“Okay, walk me through it again.”My hands shake uncontrollably as I sit on the couch with my roommate and practically beg her to tell me she made a mistake. That what she’s already told me twice was wrong.
Because she can’t be right.
My dad can’t just be... gone.
I flew out of the team offices and raced through the streets of Kroydon Hills after I got her text, hoping that I could catch up with my dad before he did something stupid.
He’d already left Dixon’s house, so I practically broke the land speed record, hoping to catch him at his house before he made good on whatever his plan was. It didn’t matter how quickly I got there though. There were no cars in the driveway, and my key wouldn’t open the front door. But there was a black metal box hanging from the doorknob.
The kind of metal box realtors place on houses that are for sale to hold the keys.
I walked around the front of the house, peering through the windows to find the house empty from what I could see. The perfectly manicured green grass and brightly colored, cheerful flower beds hide the gloom.
I called his cell phone, but the line had been disconnected.
What did you do, Dad?
I tried the cemetery next, thinking maybe he’d gone to talk to Mom. He used to go once a week and lay fresh flowers on her grave. He used to always ask me to go with him, but I never needed a cemetery to talk to my mother. Her body may be resting beneath that ground, but she’s been with me whenever I needed her, no matter where I’ve been.
She’s not answering me now though.
And I have no idea where else to look.
By the time I made it back to Dixon’s house, I’d searched everywhere I could think, trying to find my father. I’d called everyone I thought might possibly know anything. But I was no closer to getting any answers to my questions.
Maddie nudges the brown box closer to me. Cinder struts around it as if she’s going to inspect its contents before deciding it’s far too boring for her, and then struts out of the room. “When I answered the door, your dad was standing on the other side. I told him you weren’t home from work yet. And he said he knew, but he wasn’t here to see you. He was here to see me.” She laces her fingers through mine and squeezes. “He asked me to give you this box. He wanted me to tell you he loves you and he’s sorry. I texted you as soon as the door closed, D. He scared me. He sounded... broken. Like he’d given up.”
With the fingers of my free hand, I trace the top of the box, not sure what to do next.
“Are you going to open it?” She wraps her other hand around our joined ones, giving me her strength.
“I’m scared.” My words are whispered.
A quiet plea that the contents of the box don’t destroy me.
The fear is real.
He sold the family business.
He changed the locks on the door.
He’s not answering his phone.
“I’m scared when I open that box, there’ll be a suicide note in there, Mads.”
“I know, D. And that’s why we’re going to do this together.”
Dixon, who’s been sitting quietly across the room in a recliner, gets up and leans against the arm of the couch next to me. “We’ve gotcha, D. Whatever you need.” His hand squeezes my shoulder in silent support.
I slide my finger under the unsealed flap of the old box. The four top flaps are tucked into each other. They aren’t even taped, so it opens easily enough. Sitting on top of everything is a handwritten note scrawled on a piece of Dad’s monogrammed stationery.
Dearest Daphne,
You deserve answers I can’t give you, but I hope this helps. Saying I made a mistake doesn’t seem strong enough. I thought selling the team would fix it, but it didn’t. It only provided a band-aid that wasn’t as strong as I’d hoped.
I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I’ve sold the house and closed the accounts. I have to go away for a bit while I figure out what my next steps are. I can’t tell you where I’m going. I know I’ve let you down. Believe it or not, I’m doing this all for you. You’re safer this way. It’s the only way to make sure my mistake doesn’t touch you. I’m sorry, honey.
I love you.
