Saturday was a good day. We had company show up from out of town. I was very busy working on tax returns (I am a CPA working from home), but they were a welcome treat.
Our new adopted “home town” had several celebrations going on and we took in all the festivities. We came home late and tired. There was a card in the mailbox requesting someone to come to the post office and pick up a certified letter.
My husband seemed concerned, but I assured him it was probably from a tax client sending me a forgotten form. He came back from the post office with the letter and laid in on my desk.
It was not from a client, but from the local police department. It was addressed to our son who has been gon for 101 weeks. In the letter they were threatning to destroy property that they had im their property room if he did not come claim it.
The property description listed was a rifle. The rifle he shot and killed himself with. The rifle they confiscated the day he died in our home. The rifle we bought him when he was 11 years old. The rifle we had not seen in over 10 years. The rifle he so carefully hid from us in the guitar case we found open on his bed. The rifle we would have disposed of if we had known it was in our home.
