Grandpa's Box

2023-04-17

My name is Detective Harrison Stride.

On April 2nd, my grandfather, James Edgar Crawford, passed away at his home from lymphoma at the age of 83.

On April 4th, my grandmother, Mary Crawford, disappeared. She is 84 years old and has dementia.

Today, I found the box.

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1970-11-13

Dearest Mary,

I hope my letter finds you well. I’m stuck in Arkansas for a few more weeks. I wanted to say I love you and to let you know that I'm thinking about you constantly.

It's can’t believe it’s been 10 years already. It feels like just yesterday that we exchanged our vows and began our journey together. I'm so grateful for every moment we've spent together, both the good times and the bad. You've been my rock and my best friend through it all.

As I sit here writing this letter, I can't help but reflect on all the memories we've created over the years. Remember our first apartment together in Grand Rapids? It was small and cramped, but we made it our own. And what about our trip to Yosemite? That was such a magical experience. I cherish every memory we've made together.

Life hasn't always been easy, but we've faced every challenge together. And I know that whatever the future holds, we'll face it together as well. I'm proud to call you my wife, and I'm honored to share my life with you.

I know that you’ve both been busy with work and the kids lately, but I want you to know that I'm committed to making time for us. Let's plan a date night soon, just the two of us. Maybe we can go see that movie you’ve been talking about - Little Big Man - and try that new restaurant we've been talking about.

I love you more than words can express, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us.

With all my love,

Eddie

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2023-04-18

"I have done things that I can never take back. I have taken lives and destroyed families, and the guilt and shame have been eating me alive for years. It started with small things, like torturing animals or stealing things that didn't belong to me. But then I realized that I had a taste for something much darker… No that’s dumb. Ugh. I’ll try this again later-“

——————

That was from a microcassette labeled “June 2003”. There are hundreds of tiny cassettes in this box. Here - this one is labeled “September 1999”:

“The name is… Richard Islington. From New York. Age 37. Weight is… where are my glasses - here we go. Weight is 256. Wow! Took down a big one this time. Normal disposal method to be employed, but given the size of the body it make take longer. I’ll send the daughter a check in three years for her schooling. Best I can do this time.”

——————

What the hell is this?

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2023-04-05

“Find the box. Sort it. Understand. Find her. Burn it all.”

This was the text message I found unsent on my grandfathers phone to me. Grandma had been missing for just under 24 hours and a Silver Alert had just kit everyone’s phone in Florida, Georgia, and Alabama. His phone had buzzed loudly from the cracks of his old lounging chair.

Grandma hadn’t been able to find it.

Find her. How would he have known she would disappear when he died? He knew he was going to die - he had told me as much the day before. “Harry - I think tomorrow is going to be a wet one.” He laughed and coughed and gasped and I nearly burst into to tears. “Save it for tomorrow,” he said hoarsely.

Find the box. I had and I’ve been sitting here for hours looking at what is - essentially - the confessions of a serial killer. Why me? He knew I would have to report it. I’ve been Detective Stride for two years. Why would he keep this?

Understand? That would be the hardest of all.

———————————————————————

1990-02-03

Beep.

“Sammy? Pick up Sammy-girl. Guess your not home yet. Listen… I need you to do something for me. Go out back of the shed and put my snow shovel away for me, okay? Tell Mom I’ll be home with supper for her later tonight. You kids order a pizza - I left some money in the change jar. Don’t go crazy though; I don’t want you two getting sick. Alright. Love you. Bye.”

Beep.

“Eddie - it’s Bill. It’s about 4PM on February 3rd. I need you to pick up a couple of packages from us and bring them to the warehouse. Standard rate. Let me know when you’re coming by.”

Beep.

“This message is for Mary Crawford. I’m calling from Dr. Evan’s office. It’s 5PM on the third of February. We have your test results back and the doctor wants to speak with you about them. Please give us a call at your earliest convenience. Thank you. Goodbye.”

——————

This cassette clearly came from an answering machine. It’s dated February 3rd 1990, but… why keep it? No one took these cassettes out unless they broke; you just erased them and kept going. What is the significance of this recording?

Mom… it’s hard to think of her being a teenager ordering a pizza. Did she call Dad that night? Did he know then what she was like? Did Mom already have an idea of what she would do to him?

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2023-04-10

“What do know about your grandmother?” My partner, Kevin, sat next to me in the booth of the small coffee shop across from the station. He pitched his voice low despite the quiet of the early evening patrons.

“Not as much as I should. Thinking back on it… I can’t remember if I ever had a real conversation with her. Does that make me a bad grandchild?”

“Probably. But most are.”

“Her maiden name was Staunton.”

“Wow.”

“Wait, wait. She was born on Mackinac Island. Uh… they met in high school, but broke up. They wound up both attending Eastern Michigan University. She was a schoolteacher and later some kind of administrator. She basically retired after mom-.” My mouth goes dry.

“Then you came along.” Kevin already knows my story. Hell - most people I meet know my story before they know I’m the main character. Changing my name did nothing, in the end.

“Yeah. She raised another kid in that house before they were finally able to sell it and move us here.” I take a long sip of my coffee. It’s cold. “Why do you think she ran off, Kev? Where would she go?”

“Dunno. Only thing I know for certain is that your grandma ain’t who you think she is.” He pulls a folded envelope out of his coat pocket and hands it to me. “DNA analysis got nothing, but we got something on an ancestral site.”

As I read the results, I know that wherever Mary Staunton is, she’s been dead a long time.

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