Perfume

Chapter Nineteen - Caught

A stack of notebooks lay inside the suitcase.

      I lift some of them, flipping through them quickly. I merely perused through the information written inside, but I knew that the notebooks were full with scientific observations about the Atropa Belladonna. Some of the notebooks had my parents handwritting, others did not. As I took out another stack of notebooks, nearly emptying the suitcase, the gun came into view.

      It was dark and sleek and was wedged on the corner. 

      I took out my phone and called Linden. My fingers held the cell tight to my ear, waiting impatiently for him to pick up the phone. I expected it to go to voice mail, but he answered on the fifth ring. His voice was gruffy from sleep. "Hello?"

       "Could you come over?" I asked. "I know it's too early. I know you want to sleep in. And I'm so sorry for waking you up, but you have to see this, Linden. I figured it out. The numbers. I know what they are. And you won't believe it."

       Linden coughed. "All right. I'll be there as soon as I can."

       I nodded asI hung up. 

       I picked up a notebook and sat on the edge of the couch, my phone laying on my thigh, as I flipped through the notebook. Long, curly handwritting filled its pages. The identity of the writer was unknown to me, but I could not help but feel mesmerized by their beautiful handwritting. It isn't until I flip to the front page that I see Raquiya's named signed on the inner cover in red pen, a smiley face next to it. 

       I smiled sadly as I closed the notebook. I only saw Raquiya once, but her death still hurt. She had been so young. Not more than thirty years, I knew. She had so much more years to live, so many things to see, and Venenoso had taken all that away from her in one, quick instant.

      I felt my heart burn as my phone buzzed against my thigh. 

      It was a text message from Linden, telling me he was outside my door. I set the notebook aside and walked to the front door, putting my phone on my pocket as I went. Behind the door was a messy-haired, sleepy-eyed Linden. He pulled me into his arms at once and kissed my forehead. 

      "This has got to br good," he said, his voice still groggy. 

      I took his hand and led him to the living room. 

      The suitcase lay open on the coffee table, notebooks littered around it haphazardly, the gun still inside with the few notebooks left. Linden examined the coffee table and I saw his eyes grow into blue orbs as he caught sight of the gun.

     He gestured toward it and turned to me. "What is that?"

     "It was in the suitcase."

     "How? What?"

      "The numbers on the book were the numbers that unlocked the suitcase, Linden."

      He frowned. "But how did you get the suitcase?"

      "I was wandering through my old neighborhood this morning..." I swallowed. "And this lady who used to live next to us...she saw me and she gave me the suitcase. She said my mom had left it for me and that I would know what to do with it.

      "Linden, it's like they knew I was going to see the numbers in the book. Like they planned it all. It's so crazy." I shook my head.

       "Your parents were really smart," he said sadly, taking a seat on the couch, pulling me next to him.

      I nodded. "They were."

      "So what are all this notebooks for? And the gun?" He picked up one of the notebooks, flipped through it, and set it back on the coffee table with the other ones.