The image on the monitors went black and then paused. I glanced at Francine and saw her finger hovering over the pause icon.
“That was the last time I spoke to Jace.” Caelan’s fingers tightened around the stress ball until his knuckles turned white. “Is this his last recording?”
“No.” Francine’s tone was gentle. “There’s more.”
Caelan released his tight grip on the stress ball and squeezed it a few times. “What? What else did he record?”
Francine tapped her tablet screen. The monitors stayed black for another two seconds before a shaky image filled the screens. The bare walls, floor and lack of windows in the room led me to the conclusion that Jace was in a basement. A lightbulb hung from the ceiling, no lampshade or any decorative finishing visible anywhere. A thin layer of white paint hadn’t been enough to cover the concrete walls or effectively lighten the space.
Plastic containers lined the walls all the way to the ceiling, each container neatly marked. A quick glance showed some containers holding magazines, marked by year. Other containers held books. These were marked by year and letters of the alphabet.
Wooden crates in the centre of the room drew my attention away from the combination of hoarding and obsessive organising. Jace’s hands appeared in view of the camera. He signed.
“He’s saying that he found these in a storage locker in the same aisle as the envelope cache we found. The door was open and this was all that was in the room. The manager of the warehouse was inside, swearing like crazy. He didn’t know what to do with the crates.” Caelan leaned forward and stared at Jace’s hands on the monitors. “He says the manager said that one of their regular clients booked the locker on the same day they expected a delivery.
“The client couldn’t be there, so the manager agreed to open the locker for the delivery. Twelve crates were delivered. The client came to pick four up and was going to return the afternoon for the rest and pay for the locker.
“When this person didn’t come back, the manager opened the locker to remove the crates. Jace is saying the manager was very unprofessional and full of whiny information. That size locker was the most popular to rent out and he wanted to make it available to customers.
“Jace immediately offered to rent it and the manager was very happy to receive a cash payment for a year in advance. The manager said since that client knew the company policies, he didn’t have a problem renting out the locker and giving the contents to Jace. Jace then moved the remaining eight crates to his basement. He planned to store other things in this locker.”
Caelan paused. “He says that legally he now owns everything that was in that locker.”
The crates were identical sizes and all eight had large stickers warning of the fragility of the contents. The shipping stickers were too far away to read the detail and I wondered if the quality of the footage was good enough to zoom in and read the information on the stickers.
One crate was open, the wooden lid leaning against the plastic containers lining the wall. On top of one of the closed crates was a dark green glass bottle.
“He took crates of wine bottles?” Daniel’s tone matched the confusion seen on the faces of everyone in the room. “Why would he do that?”
“Jace collected stuff.” Caelan squeezed the stress ball. “In the beginning, it was hard for him to leave the caches for others to find. He wanted to take each cache we found and start a cache collection. So I told him to take photos of each cache. He printed out all these photos and put them in a book.”
“What was he going to do with the wine bottles? Did he enjoy drinking wine?” Colin took a step closer to the monitors and stared at the bottle on top of the unopened crate. “This is not from any reputable vineyard I’m familiar with.”
Caelan looked at Francine’s shoulder. “Can you take the recording back? I stopped reading Jace’s signing when everyone started talking.”
“Sure thing.” Francine tapped her tablet screen and the video returned to the moment Jace’s hands came into view.
For a few seconds it was quiet while everyone watched the gestures. “Now he’s saying that he’s going to plan a cache hunt for people to find the crates. Each person who gets to the final cache will be allowed to take one bottle of wine. He’s very excited about creating his own cache hunt. He’s saying the riddles will be epic. No stupid envelope riddles.”
Jace’s hands disappeared from the monitors and he walked closer to the crate. He lifted the bottle and tilted it as if to read the glossy label. We needed that information.
As I reached for my mouse, Francine paused the image, zoomed in and took a screenshot. She smiled at me, then pointed with a manicured purple nail between her head and mine. “We share a brain, you and I.”
I leaned away from her.
“Do you know where this place is?” Manny was looking at the monitor.
No one answered.
Caelan stared at the monitors. Francine zoomed out and searched the footage for the best view of the room. She took another screenshot and put that on the monitor closer to Caelan. He looked at it for a few more seconds and shook his head. “I know Jace rented a few basements in buildings close to his apartment for all his stuff, but I don’t know where any of them are.”
“He has more stuff than this?” Vinnie’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. “Did the dude never throw anything away?”
“No. But he was obsessively organised and kept his collections in very good condition.” Caelan started rocking. “He’ll never see his collections again.”
Colin glanced at Caelan. “Are you all right?”
“Australia is wider than the moon.” Caelan rocked back and forth. “Africa is the only continent that covers four hemispheres.”
“Come on, bud.” Pink walked over to Caelan’s chair. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?”
“The Sargasso Sea is the only sea without a coast.” Caelan nodded and got up. He looked down at his hands and raised his eyebrows when he noticed the stress balls. He made an obvious effort to relax, squeezed the balls and looked at my shoulder. “I want to help.”
“I know.” It was unsettling to observe how hard Caelan was trying to cope with the effects of the loss of his friend. I’d learned that the average neurotypical individual often needed reassurance, even if it meant lying to them. My studies and own experience had taught me that non-neurotypical people needed logic. I leaned forward. “I will have more questions that you might have the answers to. When I do, I will need your help.”
Caelan stared at my shoulder for another seven seconds, then nodded and followed Pink from my viewing room. Immediately, I felt the relief of having fewer people in my space. Manny’s grumbling as he sat down in the chair Caelan had vacated felt oddly calming.
“Ready?” Francine’s soft question brought tension to my throat until it felt like I was being strangled.
“Have you watched this?” Colin asked.
“No.” Francine turned to look at Colin. “And I can’t say I want to.”
“None of us want to, Franny.” Vinnie crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth turned down.
“Play it.” If she didn’t start the rest of the video now, I might not be able to hold off the looming shutdown long enough.
“Here we go.” She tapped her tablet screen and the video continued for another minute in the basement. Jace signed something before the screen went dark for a few seconds.
When the screen turned on again, the image moved erratically, pained screaming coming through the speakers. Immediately, darkness entered my peripheral vision. I grabbed the armrests of my chair and pushed as far back against the seat as I could.
The image flipped from the ceiling to the floor, the rug, leather shoes, then it slid across the floor until it stopped under the bed. Where we’d found it.