rang once, twice, and then a woman’s no-nonsense voice was in his ear.
“Emerson Law.”
“LaDelle, this is Mack Jackson. Is Mr. Emerson in?”
“Oh, Mack, I am so sorry about your father. One moment while I connect you.”
Mack stood up and turned his back to the lobby as he walked toward the plate-glass windows. The sky was an odd shade of blue-gray. He hadn’t listened to the weather since he’d been here, but it looked like it might rain.
He saw Trey Jakes drive by in his patrol car and wondered if he’d heard from the lift company. There was a knot in his gut that kept getting tighter. He needed to know the truth about his father’s death. Had it truly been just a horrible accident, or had he been murdered?
“Adrian Emerson speaking.”
Mack jumped. He’d almost forgotten he was on hold for the lawyer.
“Mr. Emerson, this is Mack Jackson. I found a safety deposit key at my dad’s house. I’m at the bank, but they have to open the box in front of witnesses, including Dad’s lawyer, so I was wondering if you were free.”
“Mack, my condolences for sure, and I’m glad you called. I have about an hour before my next appointment. I’ll be right there,” Emerson said before he hung up in Mack’s ear.
At that moment Mack saw Trey Jakes go back by and realized it might be wise if he was present, too. He got out the card Trey had given him and made a quick call, explaining what was going on. Trey made a U-turn and beat the lawyer to the bank.
By the time the group assembled inside the vault, there were five people present: Gregory Standish, the president of the bank; his secretary, who would record the event; Adrian Emerson; Trey Jakes; and Mack himself.
He eyed the wall of safety deposit boxes with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
“What are you thinking?” Trey asked, as they waited for the secretary to get the recording equipment set up.
Mack shrugged. “That this might not amount to a thing, and that it might have been something he and Mom had together and he just forgot about it.”
“He wouldn’t forget,” Gregory Standish said. “Everyone gets billed annually for the rent, and he must have paid it every year or the box wouldn’t still be in his name.”
Mack gave up trying to figure out why it was here. They would find out soon enough.
“Okay, here we go,” the secretary said.
She took the bank key and Mack’s key, opened the door and removed the box without fanfare, then promptly pulled out a large manila envelope with Paul Jackson’s name on the front and handed it to the lawyer.
Emerson opened the flap and tilted the envelope, letting the contents slide out onto the table. The first thing he picked up was a piece of paper. He read it, frowning.
“It appears to be a list of the items in the envelope. The heading reads, ‘Property of eighteen-year-old Paul Jackson of Mystic, West Virginia, removed from his person in ER during triage.’”
Trey Jakes’ heart skipped a beat as he glanced at Mack. That damn wreck
was
going to tie the deaths together after all. He could feel it.
Mack frowned at the odd assortment of items as they were being listed.
An old wallet containing a five-dollar bill, a condom still in a wrapper and a school picture of Trey’s mother, Betsy.
A stained tassel from a graduation cap.
A folded-up program from graduation night.
A handful of coins totaling a dollar and twenty-three cents.
“I believe that’s all,” Emerson said, then absently checked the inside of the envelope. “Oh, wait! There’s something else.”
He pulled out a smaller envelope.
“It has Mack’s name on it,” Emerson said, handing it to him.
Seven
M ack didn’t know what to expect, but he wasted no time opening the envelope. His eyes widened as he scanned the text, then he took a deep breath and handed it to Trey.
“I think this is something you’re going to want to read.”
“Please read it aloud for the record,” Emerson said, as Trey took the
“Emerson Law.”
“LaDelle, this is Mack Jackson. Is Mr. Emerson in?”
“Oh, Mack, I am so sorry about your father. One moment while I connect you.”
Mack stood up and turned his back to the lobby as he walked toward the plate-glass windows. The sky was an odd shade of blue-gray. He hadn’t listened to the weather since he’d been here, but it looked like it might rain.
He saw Trey Jakes drive by in his patrol car and wondered if he’d heard from the lift company. There was a knot in his gut that kept getting tighter. He needed to know the truth about his father’s death. Had it truly been just a horrible accident, or had he been murdered?
“Adrian Emerson speaking.”
Mack jumped. He’d almost forgotten he was on hold for the lawyer.
“Mr. Emerson, this is Mack Jackson. I found a safety deposit key at my dad’s house. I’m at the bank, but they have to open the box in front of witnesses, including Dad’s lawyer, so I was wondering if you were free.”
“Mack, my condolences for sure, and I’m glad you called. I have about an hour before my next appointment. I’ll be right there,” Emerson said before he hung up in Mack’s ear.
At that moment Mack saw Trey Jakes go back by and realized it might be wise if he was present, too. He got out the card Trey had given him and made a quick call, explaining what was going on. Trey made a U-turn and beat the lawyer to the bank.
By the time the group assembled inside the vault, there were five people present: Gregory Standish, the president of the bank; his secretary, who would record the event; Adrian Emerson; Trey Jakes; and Mack himself.
He eyed the wall of safety deposit boxes with a mixture of curiosity and dread.
“What are you thinking?” Trey asked, as they waited for the secretary to get the recording equipment set up.
Mack shrugged. “That this might not amount to a thing, and that it might have been something he and Mom had together and he just forgot about it.”
“He wouldn’t forget,” Gregory Standish said. “Everyone gets billed annually for the rent, and he must have paid it every year or the box wouldn’t still be in his name.”
Mack gave up trying to figure out why it was here. They would find out soon enough.
“Okay, here we go,” the secretary said.
She took the bank key and Mack’s key, opened the door and removed the box without fanfare, then promptly pulled out a large manila envelope with Paul Jackson’s name on the front and handed it to the lawyer.
Emerson opened the flap and tilted the envelope, letting the contents slide out onto the table. The first thing he picked up was a piece of paper. He read it, frowning.
“It appears to be a list of the items in the envelope. The heading reads, ‘Property of eighteen-year-old Paul Jackson of Mystic, West Virginia, removed from his person in ER during triage.’”
Trey Jakes’ heart skipped a beat as he glanced at Mack. That damn wreck
was
going to tie the deaths together after all. He could feel it.
Mack frowned at the odd assortment of items as they were being listed.
An old wallet containing a five-dollar bill, a condom still in a wrapper and a school picture of Trey’s mother, Betsy.
A stained tassel from a graduation cap.
A folded-up program from graduation night.
A handful of coins totaling a dollar and twenty-three cents.
“I believe that’s all,” Emerson said, then absently checked the inside of the envelope. “Oh, wait! There’s something else.”
He pulled out a smaller envelope.
“It has Mack’s name on it,” Emerson said, handing it to him.
Seven
M ack didn’t know what to expect, but he wasted no time opening the envelope. His eyes widened as he scanned the text, then he took a deep breath and handed it to Trey.
“I think this is something you’re going to want to read.”
“Please read it aloud for the record,” Emerson said, as Trey took the
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