Chapter 38

“Must be his stash of Playboys,” Lleyton said, eager.

“Or Playgirls,” she countered.

“Belle, come on, he’s not gay.”

“Then why no woman? He’s twenty-eight, for God’s sake.”

“Hello,” she said, taking off the top. But she was disappointed to find a few books, a scrapbook of clippings and several magazines—all about 9/11.

“I don’t get it. Why would my brother keep this under the bed—like porn?”

“Maybe he’s ashamed or even guilty. He survived. Others didn’t. It’s enough to mess with any mind, even one as strong as his.”

“Whatever,” she said, shoving the box back under the bed. “Let’s look in the closet.”

“No, Belle, come on, no more.”

“Oh, don’t be such a Nellie. I just want a peek. Besides there’s something tucked back here in the lean-to. This closet’s so deep. Give me a hand, and I don’t mean on my ass.”

She emerged with what appeared to be a picture wrapped in brown paper tied with string. On the front, Jade had scribbled the words, “Her Last Gift.”