“I’ve been sending the bills here.”
Fucking Silas.Why would he have taken out a box in my hometown and not told me about it?
“How much do I owe?” I asked.
She quoted a number that seemed more than reasonable for a year’s post office box rental. I handed her my card. She ran it and smiled brightly. “I’ll bring you back what’s in it.”
“Okay,” I said, not sure where this was going.
She left and a minute later returned with one of those plastic bins the post office always put accumulated mail in and slid it across the counter.
“I wish I had more to tell you so I could keep you here. I’ve got a million questions.”
“We’re on a schedule,” Sylvie said, “but we have time for a few. Hit me.”
I listened with one ear as Miss Carmody grilled Sylvie on the current season’s case. Sylvie refused to spill the last episode, yet to be released, but revealed a few details she’d kept out of the recordings. As she spoke, her voice low, leaning in close, her cinnamon hair almost brushing Gertie’s gray, the postmistress’s eyes shone with excitement.
Most of my attention was on the bin filled with junk mail.
We’d learned that Silas had arranged for his own P.O. box to forward to Miranda, who handled the logistics for our team, including mail. That meant this secret P.O. box would have hit our radar as soon as the invoice for the coming year made its way to her, something Silas absolutely would have known. He didn’t miss the details.
Methodically, I flipped through stacks of junk mail. Ads for long-ago mattress sales and holiday used car deals stacked up beside me. I wasn’t going to throw anything away until I was sure there wasn’t a secret message somewhere, but so far it looked like exactly what it was. Junk.
Sylvie shot me a look, taking in my progress through the bin, and gave Miss Carmody another scoop, this time on one of the cases she was considering for an upcoming season. I kept sorting through the mail, finding nothing.What the fuck, Silas?
What was he involved in that he couldn’t just tell us about? We were family. If he was in trouble… I knew better than to make assumptions. I needed to keep an open mind. When we had this little evidence, it was too easy to force it into a trail that didn’t exist. So far, all we really knew was that Silas and Emily were connected in some way. Emily was dead, and Silas had disappeared.
With each offer of car insurance or agreat deal on a new roof, all addressed toOCCUPANT, I began to think that the box was a tool Silas had set up but never used.
Until the white envelope tucked into a catalog of holiday decorations.
Addressed to Elias Bishop, the return address Emily Shaw’s from Knoxville, it was postmarked three days after Emily’s death.
I shifted, turning my back to Sylvie and Miss Carmody. Sylvie didn’t say a word, but moved a second later, sliding to the side to fully block Gertie’s view of the envelope in my hands. I was officially done being annoyed that I was stuck with a civilian podcaster as a partner. Sylvie wasn’t trained in my business, but her instincts were spot-on.
I tore open the envelope. Inside, I found a sheet of Creed Global stationery. It was blank except for a single line written in Silas’s handwriting.
Internal > MP > 102398.delsh.active
I stared down at the single line for a long moment, trying to decipher it, before tucking it back in the envelope and folding the whole thing in half. Questions zinged through my head. Why was this cryptic message postmarked after Emily’s death and sent to me, from her address, to a P.O. box set up by Silas? Based on the handwriting, I wanted to think Silas had sent it to me as a message. But what did it mean? Could Emily’s killer have sent it to draw us out?
None of it made sense.
The envelope went in the zippered pocket of my jacket. The rest of the junk mail I dumped back in the bin.
“Time to go,” I said, squeezing Sylvie’s shoulder with my free hand.
She shot a wide smile at Miss Carmody. “It was lovelyto meet you. Nothing is more fun than talking to a listener in person.”
“You made my day.” Miss Carmody winked at Sylvie and turned to me. “It does my heart good to see you again, Eli. You don’t have to be a stranger.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Being here had brought more grief than nostalgia. I had two more stops to make before we headed back to Atlanta, and after that, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be back. This town was my past, not my future. I only nodded in response, my throat a little tight.
Sylvie jumped in to spare me from saying anything else. “If Eli gets any mail in that box, do you think you could give us a call? I know it’s not your job to call when mail comes in, but we’re not local and?—”
“Say no more.” Miss Carmody sent a wink my way. “You get anything, I’ll call the number on your card.”
“Appreciate it,” I managed, hefting the bin of mail and turning to the door.
