Box 072

““Ma’am, I know you are upset, it isn’t often that we lose a box on such a straight move, and if I’m understanding correctly, you are stating you already confirmed it is not at the location you moved from correct?”

“Sir, I have been on the phone with your company, all week. This box has sentimental value, I need it now. Can you please double check your trucks and ware house and call me back?”

“For my own records, to reconfirm, this is Box 072 correct?”

“Yes,” the aggravated lady screams into the phone as she disconnects the call.

I’ve never been so frustrated with a move in all my years of working in the moving industry, and I’ve never had a customer this angry about a box. I should of checked myself the first time instead of asking the crew to keep checking. Maybe someone passed away and it has memories in it, or maybe her jewelry. I head out to the warehouse and begin to check again, for the 6th time this week in all parts of the warehouse, and it is no where to be found. I open the doors on each truck, and there is not an item on the back of any of them. The first three trucks are clear. As I open the door to the fourth truck, I see a small, almost basketball size box ducked in the corner of the cab of the truck. I can see it is really lodged under the seat, so I reach over and grab the box and notice it is open. The only thing in it is a little black book. On the side of the box is our moving packaging with box number “072” on the side. Finally, I found the box.

However, this box seems like it has been open. Why would there only be a little black book in this box all by itself. Is this lady really, flipping out on our staff for over a week about her address book is all I kept thinking? I walk back into the office to give her a call back. Because I’m focused on how angry I just know this woman is going to be, I’m barely paying attention to where I am walking, and trip right over a pallet on the floor. I drop the book, and it opens in the middle. All I can see is a lot of numbers, no letters, no words, just a lot of numbers. My brain can not comprehend why this lady would pack her bank records into such a small book, with online banking being so popular now.

“Hello, Ms. O’Riley. This is Ricky from the moving company calling you back.”

“Yes.”

“I have located box 072, however, the only think left inside is a little black book, I can help you file the insurance claim on the other items that were in the box, I apologize, I am not sure what happened.” I then prepare for a bashing of my life, because I just know this lady is about to be upset that we lost the other contents of the box.

“Umm, no. That is all that was in it. You said it does still have the book, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Great, I will drive in tomorrow afternoon and pic it up, can you please put it up, so it does not get lost again. If you can make sure that it doesn’t get lost again, I can make sure that you get a very generous tip in cash when I get to you.”

“That isn’t a problem at all.” As I hung up the phone, I felt a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it is lunch time, so that has to be what I am feeling. I head out the door for lunch. On my lunch break I am venting to my girlfriend, about the crazy woman from all week and how I found the box. When I told her about what the woman said about a generous tip. She laughed and said the lady would probably give me a $5.00 bill. Then she laughed even harder and said, unless the numbers are a secret code. We both laughed, and I told her I’d see her later as I headed back inside from my lunch break.

As the day progressed, I kept taking quick looks at the book, because I just couldn’t get it out of my head, why would someone have so many numbers one after the other. It had to be a code; was I smart enough to crack it? I punched a couple sets of the numbers into my laptop, but it kept taking me to strange pages, like national state parks. When I typed in the 5th set of numbers, it took me to yet another state park, but this one was local, and it had been closed down all year because of a tragedy at the end beginning of the year. I don’t even remember exactly what happened for it to be shut down. It was at that moment as I was thinking about all of that, that I realized, these were not numbers, they were coordinates. These numbers were maps. Maps to what though? I almost feel myself getting giddy. What if this is buried treasure? What if this lady has maps to treasures all over just written in this little black book? I quickly take the book over to the copy machine and copy several pages of it. I scan through and see that the entire book is almost full of numbers.

I’m intrigued, this is a lot of treasure. I am sure no one would even notice if I went and collected a couple of them. I slide the papers in my desk, and prepare to close up for the day. That night I talk to my girlfriend about everything. She is still hysterically laughing at me because she said my head is always in the clouds, and that the numbers are probably her and someone keeping score during card games over the year. Nothing I can say will convince her otherwise. I dose off thinking how awesome it would be to discover treasure in such a boring town.

As I arrive at work in the morning, Ms. O’Riley is already in the parking lot. I smile and nod my head as she follows me into the lobby. I turn on the lights, and pull her little black book out of my desk drawer. I see her glance over at my photo copies on my desk, but can’t tell if she can see what they are. She says:

“Did you open my book?”

“No ma’am, that isn’t my business.” I see her glare at me with anger so I begin to get nervous as she says.

“Okay, thank you young sir, did you happen to tell anyone about the book?” I smiled at her as if I was about to chuckle.

“No ma’am, why would I tell anyone about a book in a box?” She let out a slight smile, which made me feel relieved. She then handed me a medium sized bookbag.

As she turned to walk out, she exclaimed, “You’re better then this place, get a real career.” I rolled my eyes, because I hate people that think they are above the working-class person. I’ve worked hard to get into this position, she could never understand. I unzip the book bag and it is jam packed full of $100 dollar bills. All I can think, is there has to be over a hundred grand in this bag. I quickly zipped the book bag up. I was confused, intrigued, and I felt sick all at the same time. If this woman is giving me this much money, those numbers have to mean something.

I finish my day at work, half way waiting for her to call back and say she made a huge mistake, but she never called. As I closed out my shift, I decided that I would figure out where this treasure was buried, because clearly if she could afford to give me this much money, then there must have been something of more value at one of these locations that are written in this. I stop at the hardware store and buy a shovel and gloves, because tonight I am going to find this treasure. I remember that one of the coordinates was for the local closed park. As dark approaches, I put the latitude and longitude into my GPS and head straight to that location in the state park. I’m very careful with my flashlight to not alert anyone that may live close by. I get to the location and I start digging.

“Sir, put the shovel down, and your hands up.” I immediately listen. “What are you doing here sir?”

“Just on a treasure hunt for fun officer,” I respond, scared.

“Do you know what happened here this year sir?”

“No.”

“We found a body in this park about 3 feet to the left of where you are digging, about 8 months ago. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

I was placed in handcuffs and taken into the station. I was nervous and scared, and had no idea what to say or do. The officer asked me a bunch of questions, and even advised me that most people return to the scene of a crime when they are guilty. The detective told me they know I didn’t do the crime, because they knew it was done by a female, as DNA evidence had proven it, but wanted to know how I was involved. I immediately told him about Ms. O’Riley, the black book, and how she was acting really strangely. The officer advised that she may be a serial killer. I was able to give him the photo copies of what I have. After hours in the police station, he advised me that those coordinates had led to the finding of several other bodies. With a subpoena I provided him the address we moved the lady to. He advised I would have to stay in custody while they went to her house to guarantee I am not tipping her off. I sit nervous, scared, and more then confused. Could this little old woman really have killed all of these people? Maybe her kid did it, and she is protecting them. This just doesn’t seem like something this woman would have done. Two hours pass and I’m upset because there is still no update.

“Ricky, the address you gave us, you moved this woman to on what date?”

“Last week. It was a two-truck job.”

“She isn’t there, in fact, nothing is there.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is no woman at that house, it is completely empty, not even dust in the house Ricky. Where is she? How did she know we were coming? What did you say to her?”

“I promise I didn’t know any of this,” I say with tears rolling down my face.

“I believe you, but until we get this figured out, you need to stay in town. I will have an officer take you back to your car.”

As the officer drives me back to my car at the park, all I can think is, what if I am next? What if this woman comes after me? How did she know to run? I get back to my car, open my door to get ready to head home and realize still in the passenger seat, is the money. I breathe, knowing I will figure out how to be okay and move forward.

And that is why I keep telling you to stop turning around and looking at the lady behind you Sarah, because that is her, staring at us.”