Vanessa,
“If you’re reading this because I’m gone, don’t let grief make you feel obligated to stay in a life that frightens you.”
“Ryan is my son. I love him.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to pretend the way he treats you is acceptable.”
“Use the money for a deposit, a lawyer, food, or nothing at all until you’re ready.”
“You do not owe me courage on my schedule.”
I stopped reading. Vanessa covered her face.
I cried too.
Then I looked at the flash drive. “What’s on this?”
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Messages. Bank records. Some recordings.”
That was when I understood why she wanted the entire freezer.
It wasn’t that the freezer mattered.
She was terrified someone would empty it before she could retrieve the box.
“Why tell me not to unplug it?”
She gave a shaky laugh.
“Panic.”
“What?”
“I thought if someone unplugged it, they’d empty it to defrost it.”
That made embarrassingly perfect sense.
“Why didn’t you just come get the box?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Wednesday.”
“Ryan came with me.”
Thursday?
Ryan had stayed home.
Friday was the funeral.
Every time she thought she’d have a chance, someone was around.
“I didn’t know whether your mom told you.”
