Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Forever yours,
Paul xo
Wait.
This can’t be right.
My mother was having an affair?
That’s the only thing that makes sense when I read this letter.
My father found out, is that why she suddenly passed away?
When was this letter written?
Who is Paul?
I have so many unanswered questions, but I know for certain a tiny piece of the puzzle has just been put into place, and I need to find out more. Gently placing everything back in the box, I tuck the letter into my pocket and begin the walk to the police station. I need to talk to Harry, maybe he knows something.
This could be a lead.
It could help.
Keeping my head down, I ignore the stares as I hurry to my destination. Once I arrive, as usual, the receptionist calls Harry out without saying a single word to me. She knows by now who I am here to see, and she has made it clear she thinks of me the same way everyone else in this town does.
“Mera, is everything okay?” Harry asks, appearing from the hallway.
“Can I have a word?”
He nods, and I follow him to his office.
As soon as the door is closed, I hand him the letter.
“I found this in my mother’s things. It was hidden.”
Opening the letter, Harry reads the words, his eyes widening. Once he is done, he looks up at me. “Your mother was having an affair?”
I shake my head in confusion. “I don’t know, but that’s what it sounds like, right?”
He nods. “I have to agree.”
“Do you have any idea who this Paul might be? It’s a small town, how many can there be?”
Harry purses his lips. “There is a Paul that comes to mind. He lives two houses down from you, actually. He mostly keeps to himself, but he seems like a kind enough fellow.”
“What’s his last name?”
“I can’t give you that, Mera.”
No, I guess he can’t, but he did just tell me where he lives without thinking.
“I’ll figure it out,” I say, taking the letter back. “Do you think this could be why my father killed her?”
“We don’t have any kind of proof that he did ...”
Harry’s eyes are gentle, but stern. I can see he’s worried about me, that he is scared I am going down a dark hole I can’t escape from, but he has to know that I can’t just let this go. Not now.
“You and I both know that he had something to do with it, one way or another.”
Harry exhales. “I have put forward a request to open the case again, hopefully I will have an answer in the next few days. Until then, try not to let your mind get away from you. I don’t want to see you tangled up in something you can’t control.”
I offer him a smile. “I’ll be careful.”
Finishing up with Harry, I leave the station determined.
Two houses down from my old place.
I’m going to see if I can find Paul.
6
Reaching up, I carefully knock on the door.
The first house I went to, two houses down on the left of my old home, wasn’t Paul. In fact, it was a grumpy old woman who cursed at me and told me to get out of town and that she didn’t want me bringing bad spirits into their neighborhood. Clearly hating me as much as the rest of them, I got the hell out of there.
That only leaves this house – a worn-down little cottage with peeling white paint and an overgrown garden.
It’s sad, like the love has been sucked right out of this place.
Knocking again, I’ve just lowered my hand when the door opens, revealing a man possibly in his early fifties. He has soft brown hair and kind green eyes. He’s well built, but his body is slightly hunched, as if he’s tired. The moment our eyes meet, though, I know I’ve found the right person. I know because he jerks like he has seen a ghost, then a sadness washes over his features that runs deep.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I say quickly. “But are you Paul?”
His eyes dart behind me, then come back to mine. “How did you find me?”
I almost exhale with relief.
“I found this.”
I hand him the letter, and he doesn’t even need to open it to know what it is. His face scrunches in pain, and it rips my heart into pieces. This man is broken, broken because he was clearly in love with my mother.
“Can I come in?” I ask, softly.
He nods, stepping aside.
I enter his home, which is clean and tidy on the inside. He points to a small sofa, and I take a seat before he sits across from me, the letter held tight in his hand like he’s afraid to let it go.
“I heard you were back in town,” he murmurs, staring down at his hands a moment before finally looking up at me.