Chapter 6: The Room Behind the Locked Door
I didn't remember leaving Mr. Coleman's office.
One moment, I was staring at the phone number attached to the transfer request. The next, I was standing on the sidewalk outside, with Atlanta traffic rushing past and the afternoon sun reflecting off the windows of the buildings across the street.
My mother had helped authorize the transfer.
Not after I turned nineteen.
Not after Darnell kicked me out.
Almost a year before either of those things happened.
The plan had been in motion long before I understood there was anything to lose.
Andre pulled up beside the curb and unlocked the passenger door.
“You look like you just got hit by a truck.””
I climbed in.
“Can we go somewhere quiet?””
“Yeah. What's wrong?””
I handed him my phone.
He read the note on the transfer request, then glanced at me.
“Before you turned nineteen?””
I nodded.
“Man.””
“I don't even know what to think anymore.””
Andre returned the phone.
“Think about what you can prove. Not what you wish were true.””
I looked out the window.
For the next few minutes, neither of us spoke.
We drove to a small park near the library and parked beneath a tree. Children played on the swings near the far end of the grass. A woman pushed a stroller along the walking path. Somewhere nearby, a lawn mower buzzed steadily.
The ordinary sounds made everything feel unreal.
Andre rested his hands on the steering wheel.
“You going to see your mom?””
“I need to find the lockbox.””
“That's not the same as going to see your mom.””
“I know.””
He turned toward me.
“Then promise me you won't let her talk you into signing anything.””
“I won't.””
“And if Darnell starts threatening you, you leave.””
I nodded.
After a moment, Andre said, “I'll wait outside.””
I looked at him.
“You don't have to keep doing all this.””
“Yeah, I do.””
“Why?””
He gave me a look that made the question seem foolish.
“Because you're my brother, man. Not by blood, but you know what I mean.””
I looked down at my hands.
“Thank you.””
“Save it. You're still helping me with that dresser.””
This time, I managed a small smile.
We drove to my mother's house just after three.
I hadn't been back since leaving the previous afternoon. As we approached, I noticed Darnell's car in the driveway. The curtains were drawn across the front window, even though sunlight filled the street.
Andre parked a short distance away.
“You have my number,” he said.
“I do.””
“And if you're not outside in twenty minutes, I'm calling you.””
I nodded and got out.
The porch boards creaked beneath my sneakers.
I knocked twice.
My mother opened the door almost immediately.
Her eyes were swollen, and her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She looked at me as if she wanted to hug me but wasn't sure whether she was allowed.
“Malik.””
“I need Grandpa's lockbox.””
Her expression changed.
“What?””
“The metal box he kept in his bedroom closet. Where is it?””
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Why?””
“Because Richard said Grandpa left records.””
She stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
“Did he tell you about Curtis?””
“Yes.””
“Did he tell you about the money?””
“Yes.””
She pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“Oh, baby.””
“Don't.””
She lowered her hand.
“Don't what?””
“Don't call me that like we're having a normal conversation.””
Her mouth trembled.
“I know you're angry.””
“You don't know half of it.””
“I made mistakes.””
“You keep calling them mistakes like they happened by accident.””
She looked toward the street.
A car passed slowly, its tires hissing over the pavement.
“I never wanted you to find out this way.””
“Then how did you want me to find out? After the money was gone? After the debt collectors started calling? After I applied for an apartment and somebody told me I couldn't get approved because my own mother ruined my credit?””
She flinched.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated that part of me still wanted to soften my voice so she wouldn't cry.
“Where's the lockbox?”” I asked again.
She looked at the door.
“It's inside.””
“Then let me get it.””
“Malik, please. We need to talk first.””
“No. We needed to talk before you put my name on a loan.””
She wiped her cheeks.
“Darnell is upset.””
“I don't care.””
“He thinks you're going to ruin everything.””
I stared at her.
“What exactly is everything?””
She didn't answer.
I reached for the doorknob.
She stepped aside.
Inside, the living room was quiet. The television was off, and the smell of food lingered from the kitchen. Darnell wasn't on the sofa, but I could hear footsteps upstairs.
My mother led me down the hallway toward the bedroom that had belonged to my grandfather when he lived with us during his final months.
After he died, she had kept the room mostly unchanged. His old dresser remained against the wall. A framed photograph of him fishing with me sat beside the window. The faded blue curtains were still tied back with the same pieces of string.
I stopped in the doorway.
For a moment, I was twelve again.
I could almost hear his laugh when I tried to convince him I could beat him at chess. I remembered him pretending to lose, then explaining afterward that he had been testing whether I was paying attention.
My mother stood behind me.
“I miss him, too,” she whispered.
I didn't turn around.
“Then why did you do this?””
She lowered her head.
“I thought I could fix it.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because it's true.””
I walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer.
Old photographs.
A stack of folded handkerchiefs.
A small box of cuff links.
No lockbox.
I checked the second drawer.
Nothing.
Then I opened the closet.
His old coats hung along the back wall. I moved them aside and searched the shelves. There were shoeboxes, an empty suitcase, and a plastic container filled with winter blankets.
No metal box.
“Where is it?”” I asked.
My mother hesitated.
“I don't know.””
I turned toward her.
“You packed his things after he died.””
“I know.””
“You said you kept everything important.””
“I thought I did.””
I stared at her.
“Ma.””
She pressed her hands together.
“Darnell moved some things when we rearranged the room.””
The footsteps upstairs stopped.
A moment later, Darnell appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing in here?””
I faced him.
“Looking for something that belongs to my grandfather.””
He looked at Denise.
“You brought him in here?””
“He asked about the lockbox,” she said.
Darnell let out a slow breath.
“That old box? I threw it away.””
My blood went cold.
“You what?””
“It was junk.””
“It belonged to my grandfather.””
“It was an old metal box full of papers. We were cleaning out the closet.””
I stepped toward him.
“You threw away his documents?””
“Don't start.””
“You had no right to touch his things.””
Darnell folded his arms.
“I live here. I can throw away whatever I want.””
“Not things that belong to me.””
He gave a short laugh.
“You really think every piece of paper in this house belongs to you now?””
I looked at my mother.
“Did he throw it away?””
She was staring at the floor.
“Ma, did he?””
“I don't know exactly what he did with it.””
Darnell shook his head.
“This is ridiculous. The box is gone. There's nothing you can do about it.””
I watched his face.
He was too quick to dismiss it.
Too certain.
I thought about the transfer request, the missing money, and my grandfather's letter.
The most important thing I left you was not the money. It was the evidence.
“Where did you take it?”” I asked.
Darnell's eyes narrowed.
“I just told you.””
“No. You told me you threw it away.””
“Same thing.””
“Where?””
He stepped closer.
“You need to leave.””
I didn't move.
“Did you open it?””
His expression shifted.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
My mother saw it, too.
“Darnell,” she whispered.
He turned sharply toward her.
“Don't.””
That single word silenced her.
I looked between them.
“You opened it.””
“No.””
“Then why are you afraid to tell me where it is?””
“Because I'm tired of your accusations!””
He raised his voice, but his hands had tightened into fists.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out my phone.
“I'm calling Richard.””
Darnell's face went rigid.
“Put that away.””
“Why?””
“Because this has nothing to do with him.””
I pressed the call button.
He took one step toward me, then stopped when my mother moved between us.
“Darnell, don't,” she said.
He stared at her.
“You better think carefully about what you're doing.””
For the first time, my mother didn't step aside.
She looked frightened, but she stayed where she was.
I called Mr. Coleman and put him on speaker.
He answered after two rings.
“Malik?””
“I'm at my mother's house. Darnell says he threw away my grandfather's lockbox.””
There was a brief silence.
Then Mr. Coleman spoke in a firm, measured voice.
“Malik, do not argue with anyone. If the box contained estate records, those documents may be important evidence. Denise, are you there?””
My mother swallowed.
“Yes.””
“Did you see the box being discarded?””
“No.””
“Do you know where it was taken?””
She looked at Darnell.
He stared back at her.
“I don't know,” she whispered.
Mr. Coleman continued.
“Then I suggest you both refrain from moving or destroying any additional records. We will document what happened and determine the appropriate next steps.””
Darnell laughed.
“You can't tell me what to do in my own house.””
Mr. Coleman heard him.
“Sir, I am not attempting to control your household. I am advising you that the destruction of potentially relevant financial records could create serious legal complications.””
Darnell's laugh disappeared.
I watched his face.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked uncertain.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced down at the screen.
Whatever he saw made his expression change completely.
He turned away from us and walked into the hallway.
I heard him answer quietly.
“Yeah?””
A pause.
“No. He's here.””
Another pause.
“I told you I handled it.””
My mother went pale.
I could hear only fragments of the other person's voice, too faint to make out.
Darnell lowered his own voice further.
“Then you need to tell me what you want me to do.””
He listened.
His eyes moved toward the bedroom door.
Toward me.
Then he said four words that made my stomach tighten.
“It's not where you think.””
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“Who was that?””
“Nobody.””
“Who told you to get rid of the box?””
He shoved the phone into his pocket.
“You need to go.””
I took a step toward him.
“Was it Curtis Bell?””
My mother gasped.
Darnell didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
His silence told me that I had finally asked the right question.
I backed away, then turned toward the bedroom one last time.
The photograph of my grandfather sat on the dresser, his arm around my younger shoulders. I picked it up carefully and slipped it into my backpack.
When I returned to the hallway, Darnell was standing beside the front door.
“You got what you came for,” he said.
“No,” I replied.
“I got a few more questions.””
He opened the door.
I walked out without another word.
Andre was waiting in the car.
The moment I climbed inside, he locked the doors.
“What happened?””
“Darnell says he threw away the lockbox.””
Andre's eyebrows rose.
“Do you believe him?””
“No.””
I stared at the house.
Through the front window, I could see my mother standing in the hallway. She wasn't looking at me anymore.
She was looking at Darnell.
And he was holding his phone against his ear again.
My own phone vibrated.
An email from Mr. Coleman had arrived.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: ADDITIONAL ESTATE RECORD LOCATED.*
I opened it.
There was one sentence in the message.
Malik, we found a reference to a second storage location in your grandfather's estate file.
Beneath it was an address.
Not a bank.
Not a law office.
A self-storage facility on the south side of Atlanta.
The unit had been rented under a name I had never seen before.
But according to the records Mr. Coleman had attached, the rental payments were being made from an account connected to my grandfather's estate.
The last payment had been processed only four days earlier.
I looked at the address again.
Someone had kept that unit open for years.
Someone had continued paying for it long after my grandfather died.
May you like
And if the lockbox wasn't in my mother's house, there was only one question left.
What had my grandfather hidden in that storage unit—and why had somebody just called Darnell to warn him that I was looking for it?
