Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
“The auction site certified nothing had been removed. That was one of the selling points—that there could be a surprise treasure trove of valuables, waiting to be discovered.”
“They could have lied, though.”
“True. And Lloyd certainly could have had a storage facility, like you said.”
“I doubt it, though. The building manager told me the former owner was a total hermit who never came out of his unit. When you go through the docs, do me a favor and look for any bills from a storage facility, okay? Anything to indicate there’s another place we need to be searching through.”
“You’ve got it, boss. Oh, fuck.” She holds up a bunch of cassettes—the same kind as the one stuck in the camera. “There’s a whole bunch of them.”
“Any CDs or DVDs?”
Charlotte sifts around. “Nope. Just more cassettes. Some blank ones, too, still in plastic.”
I head over to Charlotte’s box and take a look around for myself, at which point we discern the used cassettes are all dated by year in scrawled handwriting.
“How can we watch these?” Charlotte asks.
I frown. “I know it needs to be done, but I’m honestly terrified to do it. If this guy recorded my grandma, or anyone else—”
“How about I watch them first and report back to you? Depending on what I find, you can decide then if you want to watch or not.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I told you, I’m a nosy bitch. Truthfully, I can’t wait to watch these. I’m dying of curiosity.”
“Sicko.”
“Guilty as charged.” She nudges my arm playfully. “Plus, you’re kind of growing on me, kid. I look forward to putting your mind at ease, hopefully.”
“Thanks so much, Charlotte. You’re kind of growing on me, too, kid.” Fuck my life. I feel chemically attracted to this woman at this point. In any other scenario, I’d lean in and kiss her now, since I feel like she’s giving me all kinds of green lights. On the other hand, I can’t ignore all the times she’s told me I’m not her type. Also, I’m still not sure I can trust her as far as I can throw her. So, I lean back and keep my lips to themselves.
“Do you think we’ll be able to watch the cassettes on the camera, once it’s been plugged in or charged?” Charlotte asks.
“I think so. If it can still be charged. For all we know, it’s dead-ass broken. It looks pretty old.”
“I didn’t find a charging cord.”
“Damn.” I sift through the box and confirm I can’t find one, either.
Out of curiosity, I pick up the camera and push a few buttons, the way Charlotte did a few minutes ago. But it won’t open for me, either. The cassette is stuck inside it.
“I’m sure we can order a power cord for it, easily enough,” I say. I pull out my phone, quickly find the right cord, and order one for express delivery. And when I’m done with that task, I suggest we pull out all the cassettes and line them up by year to see exactly what we’re dealing with here.
When we line up the cassettes, we quickly realize some of them are labeled with a female name, in addition to the year. Three different names, in fact, that all appear multiple times throughout the cassette collection: Mabel, Jeannie, Clara. Mostly, though, the cassettes are marked with nothing but a scrawled year.
“Looks like Lloyd was a busy guy,” I say, my stomach clenching. “Some of these date back to the 80s.”
“The most recent date is from over a decade ago,” Charlotte says. “Fourteen years ago.”
As she’s speaking, I open a new box and my stomach thuds into my toes. There’s another three cassettes in this one—the first dated four years ago—and unfortunately, all three cassettes are identified, along with a year, with the scrawled name of my grandmother.
“Althea,” I gasp out, holding up the three cassettes for Charlotte, all with their handwritten labels facing out.
“Fuck,” Charlotte says.
Bile is rising in my throat. “Could you watch these for me? I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t want to see something I can’t unsee.”
“Of course. As soon as we get the cord, I’ll—"
All of a sudden, Lucky lets out a ferocious little sound that cuts Charlotte off, mid-sentence—a menacing, protective growl, the likes of which I’ve never heard from the pipsqueak before. What’s gotten into him?
Charlotte and I look toward the opened, rolled-up fourth wall of the storage unit, and immediately discover what’s spooked the little guy: a big, tall, bearded dude in black who’s ambling toward us. I’m not a short man at six-four, but this tattooed mountain of a man makes me feel like a middle schooler. Also, he looks mean. Kind of scary. The sort who probably gets into regular bar brawls for the fun of it or who’d get cast as a hitman in a mob movie.