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I nodded at the workers, and they nodded back, lifting the lid and covering him again for the very last time.
I wanted to scream, cry, be sick … but I didn’t. I just remained motionless and stood guard the way he had wanted me to. Damn him.
I had said my goodbyes alone, in the home we shared, and in my heart. Watching as they slid that cardboard box into the furnace was nothing more than watching the curtains close on the final act of a play.
The workers shut the small door behind his casket, locked it, and with a whoomp I hoped to never hear again, the cremation began.
I didn’t vomit until I was out in the parking lot, and I did it in the bushes, so at least no one saw me perilously close to getting bile on my shoes.
I wiped my mouth on one of the dozens of tissues I had been given, in preparation for the weeping I guess I should have done during the cremation, crumpled it up, and threw it into the bushes right along with everything else.
Seeing my car was a welcome relief after the horrific past few hours, and I had almost dragged my exhausted shell into it when someone grabbed my shoulder from behind.
I jumped, turning to see Sheriff Buck, a cardboard box in his arms.
“Miss Rachel, I so hate to see you here alone. This isn’t something a woman should have to do on her own.”
“It’s done,” I said simply. “Can I help you?’
“I was delivering the salvageable things left over from your fiancé’s accident. Here you go.”
I took the box hesitantly, arms buckling only slightly under the weight. “Um. Thanks.”
Once my hands were occupied, he took the opportunity to stroke my arm, the sympathy on his face glaringly false. “If you’d like, I could follow you home in my cruiser. I know grief can make a woman’s behavior erratic.”
I bristled. “A woman’s behavi—you know what? Never mind. I don’t need an escort home, but thanks for bringing me the rest of Trevor’s things.”
I balanced the box on one hip, fumbling behind me for the car’s handle. Finally, once it had opened, I settled the box into the passenger side and climbed into the driver's seat. I tried to close the door, but Buck stepped forward so his knee prevented me from doing so.
I was seconds away from lashing out when he said, “Alright then, just be careful and call if you need anything, darlin’. I know where you live, and I can be there in a flash.” He then stepped back again and shut my door for me, giving me a stupid tip of his hat before sauntering off.
The vague threat didn’t go unnoticed, but my house had a security system that rivaled Fort Knox. Hands clenching the steering wheel, I resisted the urge to dig through the box of belongings, and finally, I was on my way back to my house and the hollow sort of peace it afforded me.
Chapter Eight
Clouds were gathering in the sky, gray and sinister, as I pulled into the driveway of the Lace Elm house. By the time I got out of the car with my depressing plunder in the cardboard box, I had to run to avoid the heavy drops beginning to fall.
Punching in the code to open the door, I kicked off my heels unceremoniously, taking the box directly to the living room floor. Still in my suit, I sat cross-legged next to the box, and tore it open without a second thought.
Mercifully, there weren’t any of the clothes from the night of the accident, just some of the things that must have been in his car. There was a small attaché that looked like it had been packed in a hurry, a pair of bent sunglasses, a metal water bottle, and his wedding band.
Most importantly of all, though, was his laptop.
I pulled the matte black machine out of its case, laying it on my lap like it was made of glass. The case had protected it from too much damage in the crash, but the laptop's outer casing was slightly dented.
I had never dared look at his personal computer, and I had only seen it a few times in passing. He was as secretive about the laptop as he was the office, which meant it must contain at least some of the answers I had been searching for.
I knew that the healthiest thing for me would be to let it all go and forget about any of the little mysteries that had been plaguing my entire relationship. Maybe hire a locksmith to open the office door and a cleaning company to empty it for me until the room was a blank slate.
It would have been easy, and undoubtedly a weight off my shoulders, but the desire to know what had been going on would drive me crazy for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least try to figure it all out.
I opened the laptop with a fair amount of reverence, under no impression that it wouldn’t be password locked. It powered on once I plugged the charger in. One corner of the screen cracked in a starburst of white light, but it was otherwise in one piece.
I tried everything I could think of. Our anniversary, his birthday, mine, even the address for the house, but nothing was getting me through. By the tenth attempt, the computer gave me a warning that I would be locked out if there were any more unsuccessful logins.
Teeth clenched with annoyance, I closed it, dropping it on a bookshelf, and moved on to carefully removing everything else from the box of Trevor’s belongings.
I had a few moments of guilt after the cleansing of the house, wondering if some family member should show up on my doorstep wanting their son’s/brother’s/nephew’s things, but if they had managed to be nonexistent for over a year now, then there was nothing for me to do.
