Chapter 7
With the jacket fully unzipped, Jax gently slipped the sticky ends of the packing tape away from Toby’s thin, pale skin, using his pocketknife blade to slice through the adhesive bindings with practiced precision. The boy winced slightly as the sticky tape pulled at the fine hairs on his chest, but he endured the minor discomfort without a single tear, his eyes glued to the small wooden box now resting freely in his lap. The box was roughly the size of a thick hardcover book, crafted from dark, aged cedar that smelled faintly of salt water and old paper. A small, ornate keyhole gleamed in the center of its lid, matching the style of the padlock that had previously kept Toby’s jacket sealed shut. The midday sun beat down on them, but the suffocating dread that had blanketed the parking lot moments earlier had largely dissipated, replaced by a quiet, investigative curiosity.
"Is this yours, buddy?" Jax asked gently, gesturing toward the wooden box as he tossed the discarded strips of packing tape onto the asphalt. Toby nodded slowly, his messy light brown hair shifting around his forehead. "It was my dad's," the boy whispered, his voice cracking from hours of enforced silence and dehydration. "He told me never to let her open it. She wanted the papers inside. She said they were worth a lot of money in the city, but they belong to me and my grandpa." Jax listened intently, noting the precise, unhurried cadence of the boy's speech. It was clear that Toby had been drilled on what to protect, even if he didn't fully grasp the dangerous financial or legal implications of the items hidden inside the cedar container.
Officer Miller walked over from the cruiser, leaving Clara locked safely in the back seat, and looked down with a raised eyebrow at the wooden artifact. "Looks like we’ve got a custody dispute wrapped up in a treasure hunt, Jax," Miller observed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Dispatch ran the plates on her sedan. They’re stolen out of Oregon. Her driver’s license is flagged under three different aliases. Social services is already dispatching an emergency caseworker to meet us at the precinct." Jax nodded, carefully lifting the cedar box from Toby’s lap and checking its weight. It felt heavy for its size, suggesting a stack of folded documents or perhaps a heavy metal ledger inside. He handed the box back to the boy with an assuring smile. "Well, Toby, you kept it safe. That takes a lot of courage. Let's get you into the AC, get you some water, and figure out how to get you back to your real family."
