With the strangeness of the morning still spinning through his mind Tim hung up the phone and sighed loudly. The plumber had been spoken to and dealt with and now the newest caretaker of Essence Corners found himself barreling down the road towards his hotel. There was more that he could do to take care of things and get set up, but the combination of a hangover, hunting down his cousin who had attempted to break into the tool shed, and dealing with the local inhabitants had taken its toll on his psyche.

Visions of a cold, Canadian beer in hand, his feet up on the ottoman in his motel room and a Netflix show playing in the background sounded like heaven right now. His sister, Elise, called it “self-care”; Right now he called it “necessary.”

A pair of dings chimed from his phone informing him that he had received some texts. It could wait a minute as he pulled into the Sands Motel parking lot. Tim was reaching for his phone as he parked in front of his room. He grasped the phone and jammed it into his pocket along with his wallet and keys as he stared at his front door and the note that had been taped to it.

“Seriously, Life, take a friggin' breather already,” he moaned as he trod up to the door and snagged the letter. The clunky motel room key jangled in his off hand as he flipped open the letter with his thumb and stared down at it. Opening the door and stepping inside, Tim read to himself.

Dear Mr. Edmond,

A young man approached me today with your credit card, pretending to be you. Knowing what you look like I seized the card, but refused to give him the extra room key he was demanding. I tried to get his name, but he was gone before I could even reach my phone to take his picture. If you need me for a statement(and your card) feel free to reach me at the front office.

Sincerely,

Gregory Woran

“Son of a bitch,” he moaned as he slumped into the chair in the corner of the room and tossed the note on the bedside table. “Tristan,” he whispered to himself, his mind jumping to when he had last left his wallet unattended.

When he had been questioning the other shop owners about Tristan's whereabouts! He must have tried to find his wallet, but upon coming up empty came up with an alternative.

“Too smart for your own damned good. You're getting a slug in the arm when I track your ass down,” he grumbled.

Tim's train of thought was derailed by another text notification. Breathing out he grabbed the sleek, black phone with it's heavy, durable cover and clicked it on. It was a message from his brother in law, Shaun. Enclosed were two messages and a picture. The messages stated, Guess what you missed? And then, Rebekah Elise Barber, born at 10:15am. 7lbs, 3oz. Everyone is doing great.

Cracking a smile, he stared down at the beautiful, bald, baby bundled in the bustling bedclothes. “Finally, some good news.” Tim worked so hard to keep his eyes and mind on the child, for the second he faltered he knew he would be consumed by thoughts of his cousin and the work ahead of him. It was a good few minutes before he finally placed the phone on the bedside table and stood up. No time for beer, no real time for a nap. He had work to do and maybe a cousin to find as well.

Testing that the door behind him was closed tight, Tim made his way over to the main office of the motel to retrieve his card and chat with the manager. Upon showing him Tristan's license his suspicion was confirmed that it was, in fact, his cousin who had attempted to steal his card and possibly a couple other items.

The manager was thanked before Tim made his way back to his truck, all the while wracking his brains. What was Tristan's motivation for any of this? Why would he want in the stupid tool shed so badly that he'd be willing to steal from his own blood? He laughed to himself. He was catching himself thinking about himself as family the longer he stayed here. Maybe quitting was an idea he should revisit.

Driving back to the plaza he couldn't get his mind off of Tristan. As much as Tim just wanted to move forward and get some work done, that crazy cousin of his had taken up real estate in his brain and wasn't going away any time soon. All of this had started with the stupid break-in of an inconspicuous tool shed and all of a sudden Tristan was breaking into Tim's truck, stealing his credit card and trying to break into his motel room? Not only did this make absolutely no sense, but it had escalated way beyond just screwing around.

As the truck idled at a red light Tim grabbed his phone and pressed his thumb on Tristan's name. The phone rang as he made his way through the intersection and down the street, the plaza now within his sights. The phone rang once and then went straight to a robotic answering machine. He clicked the red phone symbol and let the hunk of overpriced plastic and glass drop into a cup holder.

“One ring,” he thought, grinding his teeth and turning into the expansive parking lot of Essence Corners. “So he's screening calls. Smartest thing he's done all day.” Tim couldn't stop berating himself. If only he knew where Tristan lived or how to contact him.

Rick! He picked the phone back up and called his estranged uncle. Rick picked up on the second ring. “Tim? Did you find the boy?” Nice to have a family member who didn't mind picking up when they knew it was him.

“Not yet, but I'm on it. What's his address?”

As Rick searched his phone for the information a text notification dinged. Tim poked the square white box and took in the strange information.

Unknown Name, Unknown Number

90 Sunkist Lane. He's inside.

Rick chimed in. “Here we go. His address is...”

Tim interrupted. “Great. Text it to me. I gotta go.”

As he hung up he was too out of it to hear Rick blurt out, “That isn't how you talk to US, b...”

Speeding back down the road towards where he had been searching before the break-in at the motel, before the woman had had the catatonic break down, he found himself parking in front of a café. He still didn't have any idea who sent the message, but at this point, he didn't care. The hows didn't matter as much as getting answers from his dick of a cousin right now.

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