Unconventional

“Into his desk,” said Noah. “You didn’t really do that.”

Chase stood up at the same time Julian did.

“So now where’s this desk?”

Forty-Nine

MADISON

Everyone seemed suddenly alive again as we raced up three flights of stairs. My uncle’s room was sealed off. It hadn’t been touched since the weeks after he’d died.

“Here,” I said, handing Noah the old brass key.

The steps had been cold beneath my bare feet, but I didn’t care. There was something fun, something strangely exciting about what we were doing. Even if I wasn’t sure it would amount to anything substantial.

In short, it was just good to be around the guys again in a non-work setting.

“Whoa,” Chase whistled, glancing around as we walked inside. “This place is…”

“Pretty awesome?” I finished for him.

“Yeah. Totally.”

To say my uncle had traveled the world would be an understatement. He’d gone to six out of the seven continents. Stood on mountaintops in Nepal, and stepped through the jungles of the Brazilian Amazon. He’d seen and done just about everything in his all-too-short life, and had bragged very little about the things he’d achieved. But entering his bedchamber, there was one thing about Travis that became instantly apparent:

He’d brought something back with him from virtually everywhere.

“Damn, just look at this rug,” muttered Noah. Right next to his foot, the fanged maw of a black bear’s head was attached the rest of its skin. “Did he kill this thing himself?”

“Dunno,” I said truthfully. “He told me about some of the stuff, but not everything.”

Julian made his way past a collection of intricate jade carvings from Indonesia. Chase was running his hand over the smooth surface of a ship’s wheel, mounted on the wall from only God knows where. There were shelves of books, from all over the world. Old and new, they lined the room with their colorful spines.

“There she is.”

Chase pointed, and we all surrounded my uncle’s desk. It was an intimidating monstrosity, so big and so old it looked like it had to have been built inside the room.

“You searched that desk?” Noah demanded.

“Pretty much.”

The guys all stood staring down at it, hands on their hips.

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Let’s search it again.”

What happened next was an in-depth ransacking of my uncle’s desk, but also with a certain level of respect. The guys searched it top to bottom, removing the drawers completely. I helped them go through every knick-knack, every tchotchke. Every last little piece that made up the puzzle of my uncle’s life, from the man’s humble beginnings to his sad, bittersweet end.

And still we found nothing.

“Alright, now into the desk,” said Noah.

I opened my mouth in protest, worried they were going to literally crack the big desk in half. Instead, Julian picked it up and tilted it to one side. He held it effortlessly, suspended on a sharp angle, while the others proceeded to run their fingers over every inch. Noah was pressing, pulling, prodding. Chase was knocking on the

wooden panels, checking different areas for anything—

CLICK.

As I watched, a small panel dropped open. Something fell out, sprawling open as it tumbled to the floor.