Page 27 of Letters to the Lost

“You should ask her to the dance at college,” I suggest, willing to step back and let him have this moment with her, something he was robbed of. I would love to take our girl to the dance, but I couldn’t imagine loving someone for so long, envisioning all the things that you would do together as you grew up just to lose them one day with no idea if they would ever come back.

“I can't do that, as much as I want to. Autumn deserves to experience that with all of us.”

“So what, we all take her?”

“Yes,” he says ending the topic there for now, “Pull in here.” He points to the side, where the garage sits, a run-down house off to the side.

Pulling the car over to the shitty driveway, I block the rusted Volvo sitting there. Weeds cover the gravel that was once there, the only indication being the slight crunch under my foot as we walk to the front door. The mechanic's garage is closed, and the graffiti-covered shutters are padlocked.

The only giveaway that Tom, Kelvin's contact for running this place has potentially done a runner if he got wind that Kelvin knows about the missing money.

“You think he ran?” I ask Atlas, nodding my head towards the closed shutters.

“Surely he’s not that stupid.” Atlas rolls his eyes because he’s right. No one with any sense would cross Kelvin like this. Unfortunately, I’ve met Tom, and he isn’t exactly winning a Nobel prize any time soon.

“Only one way to find out,” I shrug, lifting my hand and rapping my knuckles against the wood. A dog's bark sounds inside, but no other signs of life stir.

“Check around back, see if he was an idiot enough to leave the door open,” Atlas says already walking away and making his way over to the garage.

Jogging around to the back of the house, the overgrown yard and weeds brushing against the fabric of my trousers. There’s no flattened greenery out here, letting me know he hasn’t tried to make a run for it since we knocked or that he hasn’t been here for a while.

The back door comes into view, the kitchen window blinds wide open allowing me to see inside. Placing my hands against the cool glass, I try to see into the house as much as possible. The dog inside lets out another faint bark, but I can’t see it.

Deciding to just try the door and hope another Keyon situation doesn’t happen again. I don’t think the guys will ever let me live it down, the photo Atlas snapped is used to torture me daily in the group chat. I’ve imagined how I would kill them all at least ten times now.

“You good man?” Atlas suddenly appears, clapping me on the shoulder.

“I’m fine just trying to avoid another situation where I’m crushed,” I grumble, shouldering past a now laughing Atlas and trying the backdoors rusted handle, surprisingly it opens, “Jesus, I’m going to need a tetanus shot just from being here.”

“Let’s just go in and see if he’s here.”

“Sure, but you better deal with him if he is. I don’t think I can handle drool getting on one of my favorite shirts.”

“Sure man,” he laughs as he pushes past me into the silent house, my hand still resting on the handle as he looks through the kitchen doorway, his hand hovering over his holstered gun.

“It’s clear,” he says, his footsteps echoing as he walks away. Deciding to go in the opposite direction to him, I make my way through the torn-apart living room. Papers and the cushions from the sofa litter the floor, glass shards scattered across the carpet, crunching under my feet, as I walk. A soft back sounds from behind a door at the end of the hall.

Attempting to turn the doorknob, I’m met with resistance and there’s no key in the lock. Stepping back, I raise my leg and kick at the wood again and again until the lock splinters, the door flying open and smashing against the wall.

The dog whimpers can be heard clearly from the basement.

“Atlas!” I call.

“What?!”

“Anything?!” I call back, hoping he’s found something, anything to tell me this cunt hasn’t abandoned a fucking dog in his basement and ran.

“Nothing! The place looks abandoned! You?!”

“I…” I don’t even want to say it.

What sick fuck leaves a dog and runs?

Making my way back to the kitchen, I rummage around in the mostly empty cupboards until I find some old biscuits. This will just have to do, hopefully, the dog accepts my peace offering and doesn’t maul me for intruding in its house.

I have no idea how long this poor dog has been down there, if it has had no food or water and feels cornered, it will attack me out of fear.

Grabbing the biscuits in my hand, I have to resist the urge to crush them in my fist.

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