Stepping back, I could see that the car had been damaged as well. The passenger side door lay, tossed carelessly, on the ground beside the front tire. There was also much blood soaking the beige seats within the car, especially under her small head. Brown mud had also embedded itself in the beige carpet, showing a shoe print. The tread looked like that of a basketball shoe, perhaps Nike. The mud was smeared, however, so I could not make out the brand. The killer had been careless, leaving a footprint, leaving all this behind… perhaps it had been something he wanted to get over with, and not have to face afterwards.
Popping open the glove compartment, I saw some typical things that a teenage girl would have – chap stick, a brush, a compact, some tapes for music in the car, and a little bottle of perfume. However, among these was also some letters. They were all in envelopes addressed by the same person, in sloppy blue ink. Gary White, the return address said. None of these letters had been opened. Ripping open the first one, I read on to see that Gary was a friend of Nicole’s from high school. After they had graduated, he had moved to Oregon; therefore they had to keep in touch by letters. This was just a letter to ask Nicole how she was doing, what she had been up to, and to let her know that he wasn’t going to forget about her. I shoved it back into the envelope and moved on to ripping open the next one. This one was more personal. Gary wondered why Nicole had not responded to his last letter, and he was concerned that it had perhaps gotten lost in the mail. He missed her, and wanted to see her again, to visit maybe in February. He had tried calling her, but her line was busy. Last letter. He is upset that she is still not responding to him. He feels as though she doesn’t care enough about their friendship to keep in touch. He feels like he is being neglected because of the fact that he had told her that he was in love with her, and she did not feel the same way… he feels bad for letting her know that, if it was to ruin their friendship. He says he is coming back home in February, and he is going to visit her. He says he is sorry for the problems that he has caused, but that he cannot help the way he feels.
Time to check the trunk. There is not much in the trunk, except some jumper cables and a brown grocery bag. There is everything in the bag that one needs to make sandwiches: bread, mayonnaise, ham, cheese, lettuce, tomato. Along with the sandwich contents, there is a white candle, with the tip burnt a little, and a red checkered picnic blanket. There is a bottle of white wine in the grocery bag as well, and two wine glasses. One glass has lip prints on it… the other does not. In the corner of the bag, almost hidden, lays a little white box. It looks like a jewelry box. I pop open the lid, and inside it is empty. Perhaps the box which contained the earrings.
Back inside the car. Lowering my head to look under the seat, I smell something odd. It smell like something rotting. Using my flashlight, I look to see a rose, all battered and torn, with the petals hanging off the stem. There was a card sitting under the stem of the rose as well. I pulled out the red envelope to see that it had just been addressed “Nicole.” The card had not been opened either. Tearing the envelope open, I read a cute little romantic card, with two puppies on the front. Gary had written, “Nicole, I love you, Love Gary.” That was all.
Love. It’s a funny thing… often it is necessary for one to live; yet sometimes it can kill.