Chapter 9 - THE BOX IN THE TRUNK
Vanessa's SUV was gone by the time we reached the driveway.
So was Vanessa.
Dad called her six times. No answer.
I called the police anyway.
An officer took photographs of the shed, the cut crate latch, the burned papers, and the letter. We gave them a copy of Caleb's video.
The officer watched it without speaking.
When it ended, he looked at Caleb. "You did the right thing saving this."
Caleb started crying again.
The police issued a notice to locate Vanessa and asked us not to touch anything else.
Two hours later, a patrol officer found her SUV abandoned behind a grocery store.
The trunk was locked.
By evening, detectives had a warrant.
I stood beside Dad in a parking lot under fluorescent lights while Detective Harris opened the rear hatch.
There were grocery bags, a jacket, an umbrella.
Then he lifted the carpeted floor panel.
A narrow metal box sat inside the spare-tire well.
My mother's name was written on masking tape across the lid.
Rachel Collins.
Dad made a sound like all the air had left him.
Harris opened the box.
Inside were copies of old clinic schedules, insurance documents, photographs of my mother, and a stack of letters tied with string.
The top photograph showed my mother and Vanessa standing outside the clinic nine years ago.
On the back, someone had written:
She got everything I should have had.
I looked at Dad.
"What does that mean?"
He shook his head.
Detective Harris kept searching.
At the bottom of the box was a small black key fob sealed in a plastic bag.
He turned it over.
A dealership logo was printed on one side.
Dad stared at it.
"Rachel's car had that exact remote."
Harris looked at him. "What happened to her car after the crash?"
"It was totaled. The insurance company took it."
The detective's expression became very still.
"Mr. Collins, this fob is marked with a vehicle identification tag. We can trace it."
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The next morning, he called.
The key fob belonged to my mother's car.
