Breaking point

Searching

Cole got up and got dressed while I stayed in bed, thinking and trying to grasp some hope I could still hold onto.

It hit me suddenly that maybe my moms letters would lead me to her; maybe there was still a chance after all these years.

I got up in a hurry and grabbed the file, sifting through letters till I found the last one, sent 2 years ago.

There was no return address but there was a P.O. Box number.

Cole came out of the bathroom, running his hands through his hair as he sat down next to me and motioned to the letter, "what's that?"

"I wanna find her." I stated in a near whisper.

He nodded, not arguing, "ok, any ideas how to start?"

"We should google this post office and find out where the owner of the P.O. Box is." I suggested, grabbing my laptop and opening up Google.

The post office came up immediately, it was about a 15 minute drive away. Neither of us had a car but I knew where we could get one.

My dad was gone for the day for his court hearing on the money laundering scandal his business was involved in. Before i'd learned of all my dads lies I would've been there supporting him, but now I didn't care one way or another how the trial went. He deserved justice.

The courthouse had sent a car to pick him up so his car was still here. I didn't technically have a license but Cole couldn't drive at the moment so I'd have to take a shot at it.

"Ok, let's get going, I wanna make some progress on finding her." I said as I closed my laptop and started toward the garage.

Cole limped to his crutches and followed, questioning, "are we walking?"

"Nope."

"How are we getting there?"

"I'm driving." I stated confidently as I grabbed the keys and opened the garage door for him.

He hesitated, raising a brow at me, before shaking his head and jokingly added, "well we're doomed now."

"Shut up!" I slapped his good arm with a playful glare as I got in the drivers seat and he got in the passenger side and tossed his crutches in back.

Starting the engine, I backed out and turned down the street, following my phone's directions to the post office.

We managed to get there in one piece with minimal driving law violations. For not being licensed I thought I'd done a pretty bang up job.

The receptionist wore a fake smile, as they all did, and greeted us in a preppy tone, "hi! What can I help you with?"

"We're looking for the owner of P.O. Box 921." I informed her in a straight forward tone.

She nodded slowly, "the current owner?"

"If that's who owned it 2 years ago...." I added hesitantly.

"Oh," her smile dropped slightly, "I'm sorry, it changed hands about 6 months ago. It now belongs to a Fred Wilson."

"Do you know what happened to the previous owner? Mabel bates?" I questioned hopefully.