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“No, I…” Tess was in a daze. “You can keep it. I just… I have to check something.”
“Need help?”
“No,” she said, forcing herself to smile at him. “You’ve been very helpful, Danny. Thank you.”
Bobbing his head in acceptance, he walked backwards. “I’m always around if you change your mind.” She widened her tight smile and nodded. “Food, drink, whatever…” Opening his arms at his sides, the corner of his mouth rose, revealing an endearing dimple. “Stop by the trailer sometime, Little Red. I’ll rev your engine. No charge.”
At a different time, the blatant invitation may have made her laugh. It just wasn’t in her, so Tess raised a hand to wave instead.
Surveying the damaged vehicle, only one word came to mind: horrifying. Once it was the ultimate birthday gift. How her mom saved money and kept the purchase a secret still impressed her. A little red Corvette. Just like she’d always wanted… Its glory days were gone. Long gone.
Without question, there had been impact in more than one place. Did the car spin out and pinball off every obstacle in its careening path? She couldn’t imagine the terror. Fear like that, so complete and consuming… warmth gathered at her lashes.
At times, the turbulence of their life caused friction between them. Even though “normal” didn’t feature in her upbringing, Tess shouldn’t have taken their relationship for granted. Anne’s last thought would’ve been reserved for her daughter. Tess didn’t doubt it. She should’ve been there, should’ve been with her…
Guilt roused her anger again. Squeezing her eyes closed, Tess got it together. Giving in to emotion wouldn’t help either of them. Anne, if she was looking down, needed to witness her daughter’s strength. Anything less than complete fortitude would be an insult to her memory. Forging on, no matter what, was imperative.
Putting aside the devastating mental images of her mother’s last moments, she refused to be a victim to grief.
Grabbing the warped car door to yank it out of her way, she crouched down and examined every crevice. After going through all the usual places in the door, center console and ashtray, she went to the other side and did the same again. Nothing in the glovebox, nothing under the seats.
The frame was so twisted that the trunk release didn’t work. She found a crowbar by one of the machines and wedged it into the space between lid and chassis. The damn thing wouldn’t budge. Her muscles worked overtime until her feet lifted from the ground, but she wouldn’t be defeated. Even if it took all night, Tess would get the trunk open.
“Don’t fucking test me,” she growled, ignoring the burn in her arms.
It yielded to her command and burst open. Dropping the crowbar, she grabbed the edge of the car so she wouldn’t follow it down.
The triumph was short-lived. No clues lay around in the trunk, above or below the liner. It was empty.
But Tess wasn’t done yet.
Returning to the body of the car, she hauled out the mats. That was when she saw it. In the passenger foot-well, a small, white rectangle.
Sinking onto the hard ground by the car, Tess picked it up and whispered the printed word. “Pandora.”
Touching the letters, she wondered what they meant. On the other side was another name in smaller, bolder print. “Russell Figgs, PI.”
No answers. Nothing made sense. Her mother would never go to a PI, not in a zillion years. Unless… Maybe she didn’t know what the letters meant either. But using an outsider meant making a connection. Telling a story. Anne wouldn’t tell her own daughter; it was unlikely she’d tell a stranger. Would she?
As Tess stared at the black letters, she caught sight of the time on her watch. “Shit,” she said, leaping to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans.
Friday meant drinks with Patrick. They had a standing date. It was Tess’s habit to keep everyone at arm’s length, but a sounding board may help her make sense of what she’d found that day.
FOUR
GOING HOME TO CHANGE for her date was a blur. Preoccupied, Tess could only think about the letters and vague business card. That was probably why she’d blurted out their discovery to Patrick.
Seated opposite each other at a table in the window of the bar, she’d held court most of the night. “It just feels like…”
“Your mom was keeping secrets,” Patrick said and shrugged. “Most people do, Tess.”
“I know, but we were close. Why wouldn’t she tell me if there was something I needed to know?”
“Maybe you didn’t need to know. Your mom got a few love letters, you don’t even know what year they were from. They could’ve been written decades ago… or maybe she just found them somewhere and liked the sentiment. You said her name wasn’t in them. Maybe it felt wrong leaving them behind. You moved a lot, right?”
Her shoulders sagged as she sank back in her chair. “I know.”
That possibility had occurred to her too. They couldn’t have new relationships, not lasting ones. Why wouldn’t her mom hold onto the old ones or embrace the fantasy of someone else’s?
