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Then, a day before he vanished, one large withdrawal had left less than five dollars in the account.
“Why?” he asked the silent room.
Happy, sleeping in the dog bed beside the desk, raised his head. He wore the cone of shame to keep him from biting at his stitches, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He was still his usual, happy self. His white poof of a tail wagged.
“I wish you could talk,” he said and reached down to scratch Happy’s neck underneath the cone. Happy groaned and his back foot thumped the floor. “You’d tell us what happened if you could, wouldn’t you?”
The overhead lights flicked on.
“What are you doing here?” Damian demanded from the doorway.
He straightened and faced his brother. “I stopped by to check on Happy.”
“And figured you’d snoop through Dad’s desk while you were at it?”
“I was looking for clues.”
“No.” Damian shouldered Nate out of the way and started scooping all the paperwork into the top desk drawer. “You need to leave. I own this place and everything in it now. You’re trespassing.”
“Well, maybe you should change the locks then.”
“I plan on it.”
Nate stared at his baby brother’s back. “What are you hiding, Day?”
Damian’s shoulders tightened, but he didn’t stop what he was doing.
“Are you covering something up for Dad?”
Damian still didn’t respond.
Nate released an exasperated breath. “Jesus, Damian. I’m not Ellis. You can talk to me.”
Damian whipped around so fast he sent several papers fluttering to the floor. “Leave,” he said through his teeth. “Now.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Nate held up his hands and edged around his brother. “Let me grab my coat.”
One envelope had fallen into the seat of the desk chair. It was empty, save for a string of numbers scrawled on the flap. Nate remembered seeing it the first time he’d gone through his Dad’s papers. He’d brushed it off as nothing then, but something urged him to grab it now. He slid it into his coat pocket and turned toward the door.
Damian was focused on Happy, checking his stitches, and never noticed.
Nate glanced back from the doorway. “If you want to talk, you know how to get in touch.”
Damian didn’t respond.
Outside in the parking lot, Nate stared at the front of the hospital for several long minutes as he waited for his truck to warm up. Damian had always been hot-tempered, but this? No. This angry, secretive man wasn’t his younger brother. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Damian was… scared.
But of what?
He flipped on the overhead light and pulled the stolen envelope from his pocket. The first time he’d seen the string of numbers, they hadn’t made sense, but now that he had the chance to study them…
Holy shit.
Nate switched off the light and threw his truck into gear. The tires kicked up a cloud of snow as he backed out of the parking spot and sped toward the main road.
The numbers were latitude and longitude.
Dad had left coordinates.
* * *
