Page 41 of Stalk

Cleo groans. We’ve only gone through two of the smaller boxes so far, and all we’ve found are bills, checking account statements, a few oldNational Geographicmagazines, and an old, ratty Bible. We empty out the last of those boxes, then I push a larger box between us.

“It’s literally all office supplies,” Cleo mutters.

I snort. “On to the next…”

Eventually, we go through all of the boxes from the office, then organize our findings into piles. One for bills and statements, another for miscellaneous things, and then another for office supplies. The two things I’m most interested in from the boxes are the Bible and her old laptop. After flipping through the Bible, I noticed some annotations which I will go back and read later. They aren’t assassin-related, but it’s nice to have her thoughts written out like that. Her laptop is obviously dead, and I don’t have a cord for it, so I’m going to have to find one in order to access anything on there. I’m sure it’s got a passcode, so I’ll have to figure that part out, too.

We break for a quick lunch, and then we get back to it. We shove the piles we made in the morning against one of the walls, then decide to go through her dresser.

“I swear to God, if we find sex toys during this, I’m going to need a drink,” Cleo says with a whine.

I roll my eyes. “I never knew you to be a prude.”

Cleo kicks at my shin with her boot. “I have nothing against sex toys. But finding sex toys that belonged to my best friend’s deceased mother? That gives me the creeps.”

I snort. “Thank you for helping me with this, C. You’re making the process a lot easier for me to handle.”

She glances at me. Her features morph from a joking scowl to a sincere smile. “You know I’ve got your back. Just like you have mine.”

The top drawers are all underwear, bras, and socks. But, while sifting through some tank tops in the bottom drawer, I find something. “Cleo, look at this.” I hold out a Ruger semi-automatic pistol, still in its holster.

“Oh, shit. Is that the first weapon you’ve found of hers?”

I shake my head. “I found one gun for home defense after she died. I never really looked too hard for anything other than that, I guess… I have a feeling we’ll find a lot more as we go along.”

We spend the rest of the day going through Mamma’s room and all of the personal belongings she left behind. Turns out, my motherdidleave a lot left to be discovered, but everything of note was expertly hidden away. I can’t blame her for that—especially when I was younger. I know she wouldn’t have dared leave anything harmful out for me to find. That’s just who she was. I should have known it would be like a scavenger hunt. Either way, I’m glad we found what we did.

The gun was the only weapon in her dresser, but we found several journals in the bottom drawer, underneath pairs of jeans. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read through them yet, but Cleo let me know that the journals date back to when I was a toddler up until the time she died. I’m hopeful that her journals will give me the clues I need to move forward.

There were four storage bins under her bed. Two of them contained extra clothes, but the other two might also help me with my investigation. One bin was filled with old photo albums, a few letters from Mamma’s family members, and a lot of my childhood portraits from school. However, we found one album that was my father’s. The last bin included the deed to the house and a small lockbox with a keypad. I have no idea how to open the thing, but I have a few number combinations I could try later.

Other than that, we found a shit load of weapons hidden amongst her clothes in her walk-in closet. Some were in old shoe boxes on the top shelf above the hanging rack, one small blade was wedged inside of a boot, a small crossbody bag was tucked away inside of a larger purse and had small vials of various poisons neatly organized within the small pockets—the list goes on.

Shortly after we finish dinner, it’s time for Cleo to head out for the night. With a big yawn and a tired smile, she leans in and gives me a tight hug. “Wellthatwas an interesting way to spend my day off.”

I hold her a few seconds longer, squeezing the daylights out of her. “Thank yousomuch, C. Seriously. It would’ve taken me days to get all of that done by myself.”

I let her go and she places her hand on the handle of the front door. She winks at me. “Anytime, bestie. Let me know if you find anything juicy, yeah?”

With a nod and a grin, I say, “Of course.”

“Cool. Love you! See you soon!”

She takes her leave, and I’m left alone. My emotions overwhelm me almost instantly, probably since it’s the first time I’ve been able to sit back and pause long enough to register everything we found today. I’m a weird blend of optimistic and stressed out. I lean my body back against the door and stretch out my neck, moving my gaze to the ceiling as I let out a rough sigh.

There are still the storage boxes in the laundry room, but I think I’ve had enough digging around my deceased mother’s belongings for one day. I do want to start reading her journal entries, though.

Before I do anything else, I move into the kitchen and chug a tall glass of water, and then I open a beer from the fridge. I’m not a huge fan of beer in general, but I’m trying to cut back on hard liquor. Especially at a time where I need to be alert and focused. After a long day like this, one beer can’t hurt. After I take a couple of swigs and whine as the golden liquid moves down my throat, I know I need to text Mattia. I know that once I do, I’ll have anxiety as I wait for his reply, but he needs to know that I’ve made progress. My feelings can go fuck themselves.

Ren: Found a lot at home. Making progress.

He will know what my vague message means, even with the lack of specifics. I tap my pointer finger against the glass of my beer bottle impatiently as I stare at the text. I’m about to lock my phone and move upstairs for a shower when the three dots appear, signaling that Mattia is typing a response.

I tap on the screen to keep my phone from locking, and stare. Then, I close my eyes and take another sip of the beer, just so I can do something while I wait. I recognize it’s a bit pathetic to feel so worked up about a simple response, but I can’t help it. When I look at my phone, “Matty” has responded.

Matty: I have yet to look into things. I plan to do so tomorrow. Meet Tuesday?

Me being me, I want to respond immediately. Instead, I lock my phone and head upstairs. Once my clothes are off and in the hamper and my shower is heating up, I answer him.