Inside were three rolls of black electrical tape, a box of staples and a pile of old receipt books from his private contracting business.

I pushed the receipt books aside and peered into the dark corners at the back of the drawer.

Under a blue plastic tarp, tucked into a faded yellow envelope, was a small pile of bank papers.

I unfolded the top sheet under the yellow glow of the hanging bulb.

It was a deposit slip from First National Bank, stamped by a teller at the Main Street branch eight years earlier.

It was dated October nineteenth, three days after the search crews hauled their ropes out of the Blackwood River.