The Last Goodbye

CHAPTER 4

In the softly lit office, the gentle radiance of the desk lamp illuminated Smantha and Boston as they meticulously scanned through each letter nestled within the dusty box from her former home. With each delicate turn of the pages, they unveiled glimpses of the past, stirring an increasing sense of urgency and curiosity within Boston.

"We need to get in contact with your mother," he urged as he sat up from where he was sitting on the floor. "These letters hold pivotal insights into your father's past and your family's dynamics."

Despite Boston's steadfast insistence, Samantha's heart remained guaded, encased in layers of old wounds and unhealed pain. "No," she murmured, her voice quivering. "I can't," she leaned into Boston's desk chair as she read through the letter in her hand. 'My husband.' This letters were indeed written by her mother.

As the clock struck midnight, Boston got up from the floor, collecting all the letters and placing them back in its box. His demeanor softened as he grabbed his jacket. "It's late Samantha. I need to lock up the place."

Pursing her lips, she got up from the chair, grabbing her bag as she followed him out of the office. Once they were out of the building, Boston locked the door of the building before he turned to face Smantha.

"Well, I will see you again next week," he said as he searched his pants pockets for his car keys. "Are you going to wait for your ride?"

Samantha nodded her head as she pulled out her phone.

"I will give you a ride," Boston said as he made his way to the parking lot where his car sat at the last row on the left. "Just send me your address."

With no hesitation, Samantha tried to keep up with Boston as she sent her address to him at the same time.

During the ride to her apartment, Samantha felt an overwhelming urge to unburden herself. With tears cascading down her cheeks, she found herself confiding in Boston.

"My mother was supposed to protect me," she revealed, her voice heavy with emotion. "But when she left our home that night, she took my siblings with her.. But left me behind."

"I... I had no idea," he murmured, his voice brimming with empathy. "I'm deeply sorry Samantha."

Upon arriving at Smantha's apartment, Boston reached out for her hand. "I'm here if you ever need to talk," he offered sincerely.

Samantha nodded, her eyes meeting his. "Thank you, Boston," she whispered. "I truly appreciate it.

He knew this was the beginning. They had a mystery to solve, a truth to unearth. "I'll do my best to find more evidence," he promised, "but for now... we need to try and contact your mother. She might have answers, Sam. We can't just assume she's part of the problem."

Samantha grabbed her bag, wiping her tears. "Thank you for dropping me off."

"Samantha, come on," Boston called out as Samantha opened the door and got out. She turned back to look at him before shutting the door. "I'm still standing on my word. I do not want to talk to her, okay?" She said before shutting the door and walking towards the double doors of her apartment building.

Groaning to himself, Boston turned his car around and drove back to his house.

***

The next morning, Boston was still under the covers, the remnants of a dream clinging to him. His phone buzzed, jolting him awake. It was Samantha.

"Hey, sleepyhead," her voice chirped through the speaker. "I'm making coffee. What's your poison?"

Boston chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "It's Saturday, Sam. Also known as my off day. I'm allowed a little downtime."

"Downtime? Don't be ridiculous," she said, her voice taking on a serious tone. "We have work to do. What kind of coffee do you like? And, uh, can you give me your address? I'd like to come over and we can work on this case together."

Boston's smile widened. "Work on this case together. That I understand. But I thought we were supposed to keep our relationship professional?"

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"We need to get to the bottom of this. And besides, wouldn't it be better if we solve this quicker so we could move on?"

"Okay," he said, sighing softly. "I'll give you my address. But don't expect me to be working at full capacity before I've had my first coffee."