“Even though things were kind of a blur back then, I’m meticulous when it comes to organization. I know it, Rafe. Someone has been here.”
She points out things that are out of place, and I usher her farther inside so I can close us in, far away from the possibility of prying eyes. We spend the next hour hunting, continuously coming up empty. As Brie combs through boxes, I realize that this has become more of a trip down memory lane. While she’s sorting through photos, often wiping tears from her eyes, I leave her be and resume my own search, even though I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, taking me from my quest.
When I look up, she’s sitting back on her heels, her eyes are lit up, just as if a light bulb’s turned on in her head. They rise to meet mine.
“I know where it is.”
My heart starts racing at her words. This is it. This is exactly what we’re looking for.
I scramble across the concrete and take her hand. “Where, Brie? Where’s the painting?”
She points behind me. “Right behind that dresser.”
When it was apparent that someone else had searched the storage unit, I knew that Rafe and I were on the right track. I just prayed that we weren’t too late.
Nothing turned up. Being amongst all of these things, sorting through photos that brought back so many memories, caused the emotional turmoil to swirl inside me. The air in the unit thickened, and I sat back, bracing my palms on my thighs.
And when I opened my eyes, they locked on to it, and I immediately knew.
The dresser.
With sudden clarity, I recalled exactly what I’d done that day, though I don’t know why.
Rafe’s confused eyes fill my vision, and I blink twice so I can focus on him.
“What do you mean? Behind the dresser? That one right there?” he asks, pointing to where I just pointed.
Nodding, I swallow. “I remember, Rafe. I remember everything.”
Though I want to rush across the room and take the back of my dresser out, I try to explain it to him.
“My dad was a bit of a conspiracy theorist. It was all in good fun, and Mom loved teasing him about it. I did, too, but I was also fascinated with his theories. All I remember is that, when I looked around that house, this painting is what meant the most to me. It’s just a reproduction, but to me, it’s more valuable than even the original. Hell, if you put them both in front of me, I’d choose that one every single time.”
“Why?” he asks.
“I look at that painting and feel close to them. It sounds silly, but I think that’s why I didn’t take it at the time. It was just a painful reminder that they were no longer here. That I was all alone. But knowing that, one day, when I was ready, I’d be back for it. I guess that day is today.”
“Why hide it though? That’s what I don’t understand. I mean, it’s amazing you had the wherewithal to do so, but why?”
I shrug, struggling to understand it myself. “The house had just been ransacked, Rafe. Who knew what they were looking for? I think, deep down, part of me knew it wasn’t just a random act of violence like the police said. I didn’t need much, and I didn’t care about material possessions. They could steal my jewelry, my clothes, my electronics. But the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose, even if I couldn’t bear to look at it, was that painting.”
“Well,” he says, standing and reaching a hand out. “I’d say it’s time to see if it’s still there.”
I take his hand and allow him to pull me up. My fingers find his, tightly wrapping around them. We walk across the unit, and I hold my breath at Rafe drops my hand and places both of his on the edge of the dresser. The solid-oak piece of furniture barely budges, and my hope that the weight of it kept the thieves from looking behind it rises.
Finally, Rafe gets traction and moves it away from the concrete wall. I can’t see behind him, but I do see the disappointment on his face. He looks up at me, sympathetic pain etched on his features.
“There’s nothing there, Brie,” he informs me, sounding despondent.
“Push it out from the wall just a little farther,” I request, and he complies.
He steps aside as I squat