Chapter 8: What Timothy Never Said

Timothy's POV

By ten the dining room was empty.

The six women had left in a hurry, carrying their coats.

Norma had gone upstairs and locked her bedroom door.

Kristen had come to the front door, taken one look at her brother holding his wrist, and driven him away without saying a word to anyone.

I stood in the kitchen with a dish towel and thought: three weeks.

Three weeks I had been holding it, and my brother had seen.

Meredith came in from the dining room with a stack of china in her hands and set it in the sink.

"The garage," she said.

"Not tonight."

"Dean said you were hiding something. He said it in front of six witnesses."

"Dean says a lot of things when he's been drinking since noon."

"Timothy."

She turned the tap on and ran hot water over a plate.

She didn't look at me.

"I'm not going to beg," she said. "I'll ask once. What's in the garage?"

I rubbed my face.

"A tin box," I said. "My father's. I found it three weeks ago in the rafters of his workshop, when I was clearing for Norma's new freezer."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know. I haven't opened it."

She did look at me then, over her shoulder.

"You've had it for three weeks and you haven't opened it."

"There's an envelope on top with my name on it. In his writing."

I heard how that sounded.

"I've been afraid it says what I think it says."

"What do you think it says?"

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