Cold Hard Cache

by Amy Isaman

  She looked down. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I… I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Why do you have to do anything?” I asked. “Do you need the money? You certainly don’t want anything to do with Carly. Let it go.”

  “And let Carly have it all?” Anne asked, her eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “She’s already lost her son and her husband, and I think she’d probably take Alex back any day over a pile of gold. Let her have it.”

  “I can’t, and I won’t. I’ve lost my husband too, or at least the trust we had. Because of her. And my son won’t come back to Elk Creek if he can help it. He changed after Alex died, went into a deep dark hole of depression that he’s finally crawled out of, but he still won’t come home. If that gold is in some bank in Boise, she can damn well share it.” Anne’s hands shook.

  I took a sip of coffee and wrapped my hands around the mug, drawing in some warmth. “Okay, Anne, if you are bound and determined to find the damn gold and you must know what’s in that box, I’ll find out as Carly’s friend. But I’m telling her that I’ll be sharing with my family. I won’t be a spy. And, if you don’t want me to ever talk to her again, I won’t, but you can’t have it both ways. I won’t lie to either of you.” I stood up. “I’ll be at moms. Let me know what you decide.”

  I left Sammy’s angrier than I’d been in a long time. Why had Frank given me the damn key? I wanted no part of it.

  I felt like the world’s shittiest big sister. When we were little, Anne looked up to me, admired me even, but as adults, it felt like she blamed me for growing up, leaving, and living my life. Like I did that to her. And I had no idea how to heal that rift between us.

  Two hours later when my phone buzzed and a text from Anne popped onto my screen, every cell in my body pinged with regret. I want you to go to Boise if you’re willing. And I’m sorry for asking you to lie.

  I felt a twinge of guilt—my first thought was to wonder about her ulterior motives. I never thought of my sister as manipulative, but now, I wasn’t so sure. My fingers hovered over my screen as I thought of my reply. I finally decided on something simple.

  Thanks for the apology. I’ll let Carly know.

  I wanted to support Carly, and maybe this would heal my broken relationship with my sister. It could be a win/win. I prayed it would be.

  My next text went to Carly. I’d love to go with you. I just need to make sure it’s not on a day when my mom has any appointments and Anne can be available if mom needs help.

  Carly: Sounds good. Does tomorrow or the next day work?

  I checked my calendar and talked to mom. Looks like I was heading to Boise tomorrow.

  Chapter 9

  I FOLLOWED CARLY INTO the bank’s cavernous lobby. Several tellers leaned on the counter, clearly bored as they waited for customers to come in. It struck me that physical banks were almost an outdated thing. I did everything online, and by the looks of the lobby, most everyone else did too.

  Carly walked straight to a teller. “I need to get into my safe deposit box.”

  “Let me grab the manager. He can help you. Do you have your ID?”

  Carly nodded and took a deep breath as the girl walked away. “This is nerve-wracking,” she said under her breath.

  “Why? You checked and you’re on the account, right?”

  “Yeah, but what the hell is in there?” Carly clutched her purse to her chest. “I just need to stay calm. When I get upset, I can get a little bitchy.” She glanced over at me. “You’ve seen that in action.”

  “Well, it didn’t go too badly. I’m here, right?”

  We stood silently at the counter waiting for the banker. When he returned, he held whatever documents he needed to verify Carly’s identity. She handed over her ID and Frank’s death certificate, which the banker handed right back to her after scanning it. “You’re on the account and have full access. I’ll note that one of the account holders is deceased. You might consider adding another person as a safety measure. Let me know if you’d like to do that, and I’ll get the paperwork and signature cards for you.”

  “Right. Thank you. I’ll let you know.” Carly gave the man a tight smile.

  We followed him behind the counter and into a huge vault. It looked like the wall of mailboxes in my apartment building, except these boxes had two keyholes instead of one. The banker slid his key into the right side of the little metal door and Carly slid her key into the left. The door swung open, and he pulled out a long narrow box, maybe nine or ten inches wide, two or three inches tall, and around a foot long. The man set the box on the table and left us alone in the vault.

  The box was not big enough to hold all of the lost gold.

  Carly stared at the box for a moment before pulling it toward her with shaking hands.

  She set her hands on the box and closed her eyes.

  I reached over and patted her back. “It’s okay. Maybe whatever is in there will help Mike find Frank’s murderer or the gold. Do you want me to leave you alone? I don’t need to be in here.”

  “No, I want you here. It’s just that this whole thing doesn’t feel like Frank. He didn’t trust the government or banks. Seriously, if he stole the gold from Del, he buried it somewhere where nobody will ever find it. The gold obviously isn’t in this box, but he wouldn’t put a map in here either. That would be too risky.”

  “Well, then let’s find out what he did put in there.”

  Carly lifted the lid. It was hinged on the back and she lowered it gently to the table. She pulled out a file folder and set it in front of her. The plain manila folder held the title to Frank’s truck and to Carly’s car.

  “That’s weird,” she said.

  “What’s weird? Isn’t it pretty normal to keep titles and things in safe deposit boxes?”

  “It is. But I didn’t know he paid it off and had the title. As far as I knew, we still owed another eight years on it. I’ve been losing sleep figuring out how the hell I was going to make the payments if I couldn’t sell it.” Her eyes welled with tears, and she swiped at her face. “He must have taken the gold. There’s no way in hell he could have paid that thing off without it. That old fucker. And why is this thing here and not in our filing cabinet at home with all the other important documents? Why did he want to hide it all from me?”

  I shrugged and pointed to the title. “Your name is on everything. It’s not like he was trying to keep it from you. If something happened to him, you’re the owner of it all.”

  Carly put the titles back into the folder, reached back into the box, pulled out the next sheet of paper, and gasped. “That bastard.” Under the paper was an older iPhone and a charger cord. She set the paper down and reached for the phone, her eyes spilling over with tears. “That effing bastard,” she whispered.

  I stayed silent. Carly tried to turn the phone on, but the battery was dead. She shoved both the phone and the cord into her purse before speaking. “I searched for this. I went to the coroner and asked for it. He said he hadn’t seen a phone. Frank swore he didn’t have it. He swore. And I believed him. I asked Logan about it, and he said as far as he knew Alex hadn’t lost it. I even went back to the accident site, sifted through the dirt and searched. It was like it just vanished. Poof. Gone. In fact, that’s what I thought happened. That he lost it before the accident.”

  “Is that Alex’s phone?”

  Carly nodded as she swiped tears from her face.

  I dug in my purse for a tissue packet which I handed over before setting my hands back into my lap and waiting. I wanted to dig into the box and find out what was underneath the next sheaf of papers, but it wasn’t my place. She cried silently for a few minutes before finally blowing her nose and pulling the box closer.

  When she lifted the next papers, we both gasped. Three gold coins lined the bottom of the box. I immediately wondered if they were worth more as an antique or for the value of the gold. Worst case scenario, as gold, this was worth at least $4,000. As coins, thes
e could be worth… I didn’t even know. One thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?

  “Oh. My. God,” Carly breathed out. “I thought these were long gone.”

  “How many did he and Del bring out?” I asked, reaching my hand toward one of the coins. Then I paused. “Do you mind?”

  “No. Do you know anything about coins like this?”

  I shook my head. The coins were cold and surprisingly heavy. They looked to be in decent shape. I could easily read the lettering.

  “My expertise is in art and antiques, not coins. This is a whole field in and of itself. I do have a friend, though. Do you want to take these home or leave them here?”

  “I… uh… I think leave them here.” She stared at the coins for a moment longer before turning over the sheets of paper she pulled from the box.

  He’s written several names and addresses of antique dealers and shops that dealt with gold coins.

  Carly pulled out her phone and took a quick photo of the coins.

  “Would you mind if I took a pic of one of them, too? I have a contact at home who might be able to shed some light on their worth.”

  Carly paused and studied me for a moment before speaking. “There’s already enough drama between our families. So, take a picture, but please don’t use it to fuel any more hate. It’s… it’s such a mess.”

  “Of course. I really just want it for research purposes to help you out. As gold, these are probably worth a few thousand. As coins, Carly, these could run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  “No way. Really?” She stared at the coins again.

  If Frank kept some of his coins, Del probably did too. I wondered what he did with his part of their haul.

  Carly went back to the papers she still held in her hand and flipped the top sheet over. “What the hell?” she asked softly. She slid the sheet toward me. “What does this mean?”

  Your legacy is in the heart of the iris; it’ll come to you. There was no date.

  “That’s exactly what Frank said to me on the sidewalk,” I said softly. “And we still have no idea what that means, but he never mentioned that last part—it’ll come to you. Why would Frank give me the key to this box? So we could learn what he already told me? You’d think there’d be something in here that would guide us to the iris, whatever that is. Does the phrase ‘it’ll come to you’ mean anything to you?”

  Carly bit her lip and shook her head. “No. It makes zero sense. He wasn’t a bad man, but he was a dreamer. It’s exactly something he’d want to hear and believe in. I mean he drank and gambled, bought lottery tickets. It’s why he hunted for gold. It was like he always thought he was destined to be a wealthy man but that wasn’t going to happen as a long-haul truck driver. He grabbed at anything he could, like treasure hunting or the lottery. When he came back from finding the stash, he was a changed man. Until it disappeared. That changed him for the worse - he gambled more, was pretty bitter about the whole thing. But he was still a decent dad. I can give him that. When he was around, he focused on being there for Alex and Kat. He never hit the kids or anything like that. He loved them. He really did. As best he could.”

  It sounded to me like a justification for him being a pretty absent dad and a not-so-great husband, but I kept my mouth shut.

  Carly leaned back and stared into the box. “I don’t even know what to do with this. I think I’ll take the titles and put those in files at home, but I don’t want to take the gold. Maybe one coin.”

  “Okay but keep it safe. And don’t let anyone know you’ve got it. Take your time deciding what to do. There’s no rush, is there?”

  “No. I have to figure out what to do with his truck, too. At least now I know I can sell it. Or I could rent it out. That can be a college fund for Kat.” Her eyes welled with tears again. “Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I know he paid all this off?” She looked toward me as if I could answer.

  “I don’t know. You probably never will know.” I stood up. “Let’s go get something to eat. I think we could both use a break here.”

  Carly set the titles aside and put the sheet with the cryptic clue back in the box before closing it up.

  As soon as we got in her car, she plugged Alex’s phone in to charge before pulling out. She proceeded to glance at the phone and hit the power button until I grabbed it. “You can check this when we get wherever we’re going to eat. You’re scaring me. I don’t want you to accidentally run over one of the pedestrians.”

  Carly grinned, her first sort of smile of the day. “Sorry. I just can’t believe Frank didn’t tell me about the phone. He knew I’d been asking about it. I just… I wanted to know about Alex’s last day, his last week. He took a lot of photos, and I wanted to see the world through his eyes.” Her voice hitched. “God, I’m sorry. This just wasn’t at all what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?” I asked.

  “I don’t even know. Maybe the gold. Maybe a full explanation of what or who iris is. But not this.” She gestured toward the phone. “Not this at all.”

  A few minutes later, Carly found an open spot on the street to park. She reached for the phone before shutting off the car, but it still wouldn’t turn on. “I hope this isn’t dead.” Pulling the charger from the plug, she shoved them both in her purse. “We need a restaurant with a booth that has a plug.”

  We found what we needed on the next block, but it took until after we ordered for the phone to charge enough to turn on. Carly’s hands shook as she watched the screen light up.

  “Wait,” I said softly. “Let’s not do this here.”

  “I can’t. It’s been four years since Alex died, and I’ve missed him every single day. I just want to look at his pictures and his texts. I want to know how he spent his last day.”

  I sat silently as Carly stared at his phone. She pressed something and her face softened into a smile. She flipped the phone around and showed me an image of the sky filled with leaves. From the angle it looked as if Alex was lying on the ground when he took the shot. He’d captured the light filtering through the tree beautifully.

  She turned the phone back around and continued scrolling through his shots. “I needed this,” she said. “He had such a good eye. I’m going to have some of these printed and framed. I can’t imagine how amazing he would have been by now.”

  Our food arrived, and I wished I’d convinced Carly to wait until she got home to look at Alex’s phone. A fresh wave of tears dripped down her face as she studied the images. Finally, she set the phone face down on the table and looked up at me.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It means a lot that you’re here and not freaking out at the mess that I am.”

  I reached over and patted her hand. “Of course.”

  We ate our sandwiches mostly in silence. My mind ran over and over the message we found in the box. What did, ‘it’ll come to you’ mean?

  Carly only ate half of her lunch before pushing her plate to the side and picking Alex’s phone back up. “Okay. His texts,” she said, more to herself.

  I remembered reading through Bret’s texts and emails after he died. Looking for anything, any clue, any hint, that life was far worse than he made it seem. I’d found nothing. I knew he was struggling. He told me he was, and I suggested that he talk to his doc about adjusting his meds or to make another appointment with his therapist. I hadn’t caught it until I found him hanging in the closet in his home office. And then it was too late. But I still read and re-read all of his messages. It was like I still had a little piece of him. I even kept phone messages he left me. I downloaded them and when missing him hit hard, I would listen, just to hear his voice. I hadn’t done that in a while. Well, since I’d met Darius.

  I watched Carly, understanding too well how much that connection to their lives meant. I knew she wasn’t looking for any clues that could have helped her save him. He’d died in an accident on his four-wheeler, by himself, if I remembered right, but still, reading his words to his friend
s might help. Or it might prolong her pain. I didn’t know.

  “Oh no. No. No.” She covered her mouth with her hand and looked at me, horror stricken.

  “What?” I asked. “What did you find?”

  “Alex. He needed help. On the day he died.”

  “What do you mean he needed help?”

  She slid the phone across the table to me and pointed to the screen. It showed a series of texts between Alex and Frank. They looked pretty standard. The last one was just an X. And it said “not sent” next to it.

  “What does X mean?” I asked.

  “It was our safe word. If he got in a situation where he needed help, we told him to just text X and we’d come get him, no questions asked.” She paused and stared intently at me. “Alex was scared about something. He needed help. But his message didn’t send, and Frank couldn’t help him. Which explains a lot. Frank blamed himself for Alex’s death, and I never understood why—it was an accident. Or that’s what I always thought.” She stared at me as her eyes welled with tears. “Maybe it wasn’t, and we could have helped him. No wonder…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the phone.

  No wonder what?

  She didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, her mouth settled into a grim line, and Carly stood as she dug into her purse for her wallet. “You ready?”

  “Yeah. I am. It’s been a long day. Let’s get home.”

  “Oh, we’re not going home. We’ve got one more stop to make.” She threw more than enough cash on the table to cover our bill, which hadn’t yet come and stormed toward the door.

  Chapter 10

  CARLY WAS TALL, HER stride way longer than mine. I jogged to catch up to her as she marched to her car. “Carly, wait. Where are we going?”