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“I didn’t plan on interfering, but I sure as hell don’t have to like it.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, placating her. “Now, we need to talk about this key.”
I felt weird continuing to eavesdrop. Whatever Slate or the lab had uncovered on the key didn’t interest me. It had to be about my father and I didn’t want to know the particulars. It hurt too much.
I left the nursery and went to the kitchen. I had phoned Donna earlier, letting her know she could take the weekend off since Slate was back. I decided I would busy myself with making something for dinner.
I had taken some pork chops out to thaw when Slate came into the kitchen.
“Lindsey, the key that was hidden in your stuffed dog had both your mother and father’s prints lifted from it. Your mom thinks it is the key to a metal lockbox that your father kept his personal papers, family bible, and school memorabilia - things like that in. She thinks it may still be packed upstairs in one of the closets from the move. Would you mind checking? It’s kind of important.”
“Sure, no problem,” I replied. “There are a few cardboard boxes and wardrobes that haven’t been unpacked upstairs. That’s where I found Robespierre as a matter of fact.”
“It may be nothing,” Slate remarked, “but if we can at least find the box and open it, we’ll know for sure.”
I nodded, starting to leave but then stopped to look at Slate.
“Thanks for handling it with Mom.” I said to him. “I know she’s not happy about me and Taz.”
“It’ll just take her a little getting used to,” he said, smiling.
“Is Taz back yet, Slate?”
“No, Lindsey. Taz had to follow some leads on a developing case we came across while we were in Baltimore. I expect he’ll be gone for a couple more days. He’s doing some preliminary investigation on the leads with Hatfield.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I knew that was all of the information I was going to get from Slate. Taz was not doing very well with the whole keeping- in-touch stuff.
I went upstairs and dug through the closet in my room and the one in the guest room. I actually uncovered two metal lockboxes. One was larger than the other and was labeled, “Jack’s Records.” Both of them were locked.
I took the boxes downstairs. Slate must have returned to Mom in the master suite. I wasn’t about to interrupt their time together, so I set the metal boxes on the kitchen counter and continued with dinner preparations.
I was peeling potatoes when Slate returned to the kitchen. He spotted the metal boxes on the counter.
“Two of them?”
“Yep,” I replied, “both are locked so I figured you’d want to see which one your key unlocks.”
Slate dug the key out of his pocket and inserted it into the one that was labeled with my father’s name. I knew that he would try that one first. The key fit. He unlocked the box and opened the lid, letting it fall back on its hinges.
“Would you rather go through his things, Lindsey?”
I looked up at Slate and I knew he had compassion. It hadn’t felt right having Slate rifle through his things.
I nodded. “What am I looking for?”
“I haven’t a clue,” he replied, honestly. “Something that doesn’t fit would be my guess.”
I emptied the contents of the metal box piece by piece, setting each item on the counter for Slate to see.
There were newspaper clippings from when my dad had played high school sports, blue ribbons from the county fair when he was in 4-H as a kid, his high school diploma, his varsity letter, photos, report cards, his birth certificate, and a leather-bound family bible. Nothing contained in the metal box looked as if it didn’t belong.
I looked at Slate and shrugged.
“Nothing strikes me as being odd in this stuff,” I commented.
I picked the bible up and leafed through it. A piece of paper fell out of it, onto the floor. I picked it up, immediately recognizing the “BP” logo of Banion Pharmaceuticals at the top of the paper.
