Cogent

SEVEN

Stalking into the kitchen, Carter re-folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Moving quickly, he opened the cabinet drawer and located a plastic freezer bag. A sense of urgency washed over him as he slid the paper inside, squeezing out the air and sealing it tight. Tucking the whole thing in his back pocket, Carter crossed the kitchen and pulled open the door to the basement. He could see box after box stacked near the stairs below him, lining the wall and stretching into the middle of the basement. Lenny's belongings crowded the room and encroached upon the stairs, an outbreak of packed up memories infecting the darkest part of his home. Carter stared at them, thinking.

There could be answers down here. There could be an explanation, or at least something to guide him toward one. Flicking on the light switch, Carter shuffled hastily downstairs, his eyes scanning the permanent marker ink on the sides of the boxes. He'd organized Lenny's things into categories; bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, and her office. Those were the ones he needed—the boxes from both her home office and the one she had at the school.

Carter bent to examine a box low in the stack before shoving it aside to make his way passed the numerous cardboard columns. He needed to find out more about her current cases. What kids she was working with. Who were the people she mentioned in her letter—the ones she was trying to help?

He needed names, addresses, phone numbers. And anything he could use to get in touch with someone who might be able to tell him what was going on. There had to be somebody who knew what Lenny was working on, someone who might be able to explain that letter.

The boxes from Lenny's home office were in the back. It took him a second to remember why, and two seconds more to chastise himself for not recalling it sooner. Carter had made sure to pack up the stuff in the office first, so that he wouldn't have to go back into that room. Working through the rest of the house was just a blur in his memory. He'd been methodical and organized, but it was all just reflex. He didn't have to think about it. In fact, he had tried not to think at all while he was there. Maybe that's why he hadn't remembered what order the boxes were in.

Once he found the boxes from her office, he started going through her files. It was all confidential information and he shouldn't have been looking at any of it. But that didn't stop him. In fact, the files marked 'confidential' in bright red letters intrigued him more than the others. He knew those were the files about the more troubled students that Lenny had counseled. She called them her kids, and treated them like family. She was always on call, ready to help. Given the situation, he figured they would be a good place to start. But the files weren't what he'd thought they would be. They were records of counseling sessions and notes on the conversations that took place. Complaints about parents, dress codes and how Suzy's best friend slept with Bobby and how Carolyn posted all about it on social media. It was kid stuff, and it wasn't helping him. These were mostly surface conversations, but whoever had been to Lenny's house must have known her really well. She'd give out her phone number to anyone who asked, but she never gave out her home address.

After about fifteen minutes, Carter pushed aside the stack of files he was going through and got up. He had been crouched on the floor, surrounded by papers and boxes. Frustration boiled inside of him and he needed a moment to collect himself before he did something irrational, like tossing the files into a disorganized mess.

"There's nothing here," he ground his teeth, his fists pressed against his sides. "No answers," his voice was tight, yet he sounded lost. Because he was lost.

Unfortunately, there was nothing here to help him get his bearings. Lenny's files yielded nothing useful. They were just details about kids he saw every day at work struggling with things he could have guessed on his own. Peer pressure, depression, anxiety.