He jumps up and tries to hug me but I catch his hands between mine and we do an awkward sort of double-fisted shake.
“I can’t thank you enough!”
I nod and say, “One last question before I go: Tell me about the last note you sent Aubrey. The typed one. Something about how you hoped she had more luck than you did?”
His brow furrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
I reach down and pick up one of the jewelry boxes similar to the one in her room last night. “You sent it with one of these.”
Paul is shaking his head before I finish. “I sent her a wallet and some bracelets because those fit in a flat envelope. Gave her the bookmark when she was here last week. I wouldn’t have sent her one of these. Shipping is too expensive ’cause it needs a box. Plus they don’t let us use computers so you can only send handwritten letters.”
My mind is spinning. Aubrey believes that jewelry box and letter were from Paul, and there wasn’t any reason for her to lie about that. But if it wasn’t from him, who was it from?
“You keep a list of who buys your stuff?” I know it’s a long shot while I’m asking it.
“No, almost everything I make is sold at one of the craft fairs to people walking up.”
“Almost everything. When else do you sell things?”
Paul laughs. “No, this is the only place I sell things. I got permission to give stuff as gifts to people who come visit me.”
I let out a loud sigh. I feel for Paul, I do, but he makes helping him very difficult. “Is there anyone you’ve given a jewelry box to as a gift?”
“Yeah, gave one to Foster.” He picks up one from the table. “Looked a lot like this one.”
Holy shit. Paul didn’t send that jewelry box to Aubrey, but Foster could have. That’s why the letter was printed instead of handwritten. “I think Foster sent the box to Aubrey with a letter. The one she has looks just like that one. But why would he have just sent her a letter?”
His face lights up. “Maybe he gave her the video!”
I shake my head. “No, she said it was empty other than the letter.” She would have known if there was a USB drive or some other device that would hold digital files inside.
“Did she check the compartment at the bottom?”
“What compartment?” Last night, I looked over the jewelry box very closely and I didn’t see a bottom compartment. Paul sees my confusion and flips the box over.
“There’s a small tab underneath here. Just give it a tug and the bottom opens up. It’s a space where you can keep stuff you don’t want anyone else to find. I showed Foster when I gave it to him so maybe he put it in there?”
I glance around to see if anyone is watching us. I feel like running out of here, hauling ass back to Aubrey’s for another look at that jewelry box, but I don’t want to give Paul any false hope.
“Let me do some research and I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it. It’d be nice to get out from behind these bars before I’m dead.”
Chapter 36
Aubrey
AFTER THE ALIBI
Sunday, October 18
Last night was rough and emotional. I was already at my breaking point from finding that knife in my drawer and the police search shortly after on Friday night. But when Deacon got home yesterday and told me what happened at Foster’s house, it was more than I could handle. It felt like that was my last chance to find out the truth about who caused my parents’ deaths, and now I’ll never know.
Deacon is making us grilled cheese sandwiches while I’m trying to coax at least two cups of coffee out of the machine before it dies.
“Please, please, please, just a little bit more.” The thing spews and sputters, and I hold the cup up, making sure to catch every single drop that shoots out of the few nozzles that actually work.
Once our food is plated and we each have at least half a cup of coffee, Deacon and I sit at the kitchen table. His chair is as close to mine as hecould get it, his hand wrapped around my thigh, anchoring me to him. I’m all for it.
