His company worked on medical research for conditions that could be improved with cell regeneration and other pharmaceuticals. They hoped to find a way to improve the body’s natural regeneration to essentially help cure itself and help the medicines along. Something like that would take years to achieve, but my dad was hopeful and proud of his work. He just wanted to contribute to the healing process even if it was only in a small way. His mom had died of cancer and he hated that he couldn’t save her, despite all of his knowledge and research.
I'm not surprised that he was investigating this, honestly. He hated shady business and their company was run on donations, which he took very seriously. Growing up, we had to attend banquets and fundraising events every year. If he stumbled upon something like this, he would have made sure that nothing would jeopardize their work, even if that meant ruining someone’s reputation and calling in authorities.
Knowing it could help, I set it on the top of the boxes with the other papers I found and continue to go through any other books to look for clues. The fact he tucked them away in books he knew we’d pick up, was eye opening.
The only other one I find is a handwritten note that has 'SHRP' at the top and lists a few names with question marks. I guess Dad suspected a few people were involved in the shady dealings. Of course, nothing I find says what those dealings were. But I know now that the investigation is open again, we might have a chance at uncovering more. The detectives know what to look for, far better than I do, at least.
The only thing they ever found missing was his work laptop, so they called it a burglary gone wrong. Now it makes more sense why they had taken it in the first place. The email must have been flagged by whoever was responsible for the funds and they sent someone to clean it up.
Though it’s never as easy as one person laundering money, they’re usually working with someone else. Dad probably only found the tip of the iceberg. Maybe now the police might actually investigate their bosses and work network thoroughly.
Not long after finding that list, the crunch of tires on gravel sounds out in the space. I gather up the few papers I found and pull the key off my ring as I wait for Detective Flynn to get out of his car.
My heart pounds in my chest as he walks closer. Flashbacks try to push to the surface, and it takes everything in me to not lose it right here and now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a few deep breaths to shove the images back into the recesses of my mind where they came from. Sophia must notice I’m on the edge of my control, because she steps up and takes my hand
in hers. When I open my eyes to meet his, Flynn gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Probably not happy to see me," he says in a light voice. I give a shrug and a small smile. Instead of wasting time, I hand over the papers and pull out my phone.
‘I found these in between books he loved, we have all of the office boxes we found set aside for you. I have an extra key to the storage unit for you, just please be careful, this stuff is all I have left of them,’ I type out, before handing it over to Flynn to read over. He gives me an impressed look before handing it back and shuffling through the papers.
“Thanks, kid. I will personally see to any searches of the unit. These papers are a huge step. I’ve never even heard of this SHRP, and I promise I will put everything I have into closing this case for you this time,” he promises, meeting my gaze with a determined one of his own. Knowing he means it, I give him a thankful smile before looking at Sophia for comfort. She pulls me in for a hug that nearly breaks down the rest of my walls before leading me back to the car with a quick thanks to Flynn.
Needing to see it one last time, I take a final glance around at the furniture and personal items filling the unit from wall to wall.
Memories flood me as I give in to the emotions I’ve been fighting. I can just imagine Dad sitting in his favorite chair, reading the morning paper. He’d always give these little play by plays as he read. At the time I found them annoying, but now I’d give anything to hear them again. He smelled like coffee and ink any time he'd kiss my forehead before heading to work.
My brother's old hockey sticks are resting against the wall. We all loved going to his games and cheering so loudly he’d pretend to be embarrassed, but deep down he loved it. He always did these ridiculous renditions of his best moves at the celebratory dinners we had afterward which were over the top and hilarious. He would tease me, but he also loved me and protected me.
Mom's vanity is across the room, the mirror covered in so much dust you can’t see the reflection anymore, but it was beautiful before this. I can still picture Mom doing her makeup there. I'd curl up on her bed and watch, thinking she was the prettiest mom in the world, hoping I'd someday be that pretty too.
The old, worn rug catches my eye. We had family game nights on that rug, usually choosing to sit on the floor instead of spreading the game out on our small dining room table. Mom would make a ridiculous number of snacks, and we'd all tease each other and fight over the best pieces in monopoly.
Wave after wave of sadness and nostalgia hit me until I can’t take it anymore. Needing a break, I wipe away the tears and turn away from it all. It’s hard to comprehend how a lifetime of love and happiness can be reduced to stacks of furniture, personal effects, and one broken girl.
Sophia gives me a reassuring hug when I finally walk back to her and leads me to the car. We pull away from the unit, and I try to fight the numbness threatening to overtake me again. Just when I think I’m moving past the grief, the world reminds me why I closed myself off and don’t dare speak, even if I could.
They died and I didn't, leaving me alone in this world.
If I hadn't found my misfits and Sophia, I don't know where I'd be.
“Let’s go home, Charlie. It’s in their hands now,” Sophia says, not even bothering to offer hollow words. She doesn't talk to me the rest of the drive, letting me have my time to grieve again. I lose myself in my memories as she drives us home to Arcadia Hills.
Monday
Afternoon
Charlie
When I walk to the lunchroom today, it feels so empty. Our school has field trips to the capital all week, which they apparently do once a year. Instead of splitting by grades, they divided us up into three groups. Which means over a third of our student population is missing.
Today it's just me and Trent for once. He's waiting with his feet kicked up on the table, his usual lazy grin in place. He has one of those smiles that I can't help but return. I'm actually excited to get to spend some alone time with him, something we don't get to do very often. Everything we all do is as a group.
"It's just us today, Charlie," he says cheerfully, sliding the chair out and I take it.
I pull out my notebook and push it between us. He pulls a pen from behind his ear and lays it on the paper.
"So, how is your day with half the school missing? I hate that they split it up into three groups. Do you go next or last?" he asks all at once in his usual word jumble that I find endearing.