Chương 12
Ryan stopped scrolling.
The money itself was not the part that hurt.
He had given most of it willingly.
The hurt came from seeing how often the request had arrived just after payday.
How many times Marla seemed to know when overtime hit.
How often he had skipped buying something small because somebody else had a larger emergency.
Nora's prenatal copay had once sat on a credit card for two months because he had paid Brooke's overdue phone bill.
He closed the app.
That thought felt too ugly to inspect at three in the morning.
His phone vibrated.
Hargrove had replied.
Do not engage further regarding signatures or estate paperwork tonight.
Preserve the messages.
Ryan read the email three times.
A hold.
Not a solution.
But something had stopped moving without him.
He set the phone on the table and finally closed his eyes.
This time sleep took him.
He woke to the sound of someone opening a juice cup.
Nora was sitting upright, peeling back a foil lid.
Morning light had turned the hospital window pale.
Ryan checked the clock.
6:37.
"You slept," Nora said.
"My neck filed a complaint."
"Denied."
"Heartless."
She handed him the juice.
"I don't want it."
"Apple?"
"Yeah."
Ryan drank it.
"Breakfast of champions."
"You look like one."
"I smell like warehouse."
"You smell worse now."
"Marriage."
"Truth."
A nurse came in with discharge paperwork shortly after seven.
Dr. Shah arrived twenty minutes later.
Nora had remained stable.
The baby looked good.
There had been no significant contractions for several hours.
She could go home with strict instructions to hydrate, eat regularly, rest, and return immediately if contractions became regular, bleeding occurred, fluid leaked, fetal movement decreased, or anything felt wrong.
Ryan listened as though she were reading launch codes.
Nora noticed.
"You can breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Not convincingly."
Dr. Shah looked between them.
"One more thing."
Ryan straightened.
"Stress matters."
Nora's expression changed.
Dr. Shah continued.
"I'm not telling you what family decisions to make."
Her eyes settled on Ryan.
"But she needs a calm environment."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
"Good."
The doctor looked at Nora.
"Do you have somewhere safe to rest today?"
Nora glanced at Ryan.
"Our apartment."
Ryan hesitated.
That hesitation lasted less than a second, but Nora caught it.
"So long as it's empty," he said.
Dr. Shah nodded.
"If you're unsure, consider staying with someone you trust."
After she left, Nora folded the discharge papers.
"You're thinking about a hotel."
"I'm thinking about the bedroom being searched."
"So am I."
"I don't want you walking back into that."
"It's my home."
"I know."
"And I want my own bed."
Ryan rubbed his face.
Nora added, "Also, hotels have decorative pillows nobody washes."
He looked at her.
"That's the deciding factor?"
"It matters."
He almost argued.
Instead he called the apartment manager.
The office was not officially open, but the emergency line connected him to a maintenance supervisor who agreed to rekey the lock at eight-thirty.
Ryan also asked whether anyone had attempted entry after security removed his family.
The supervisor checked the overnight log.
No further calls.
No reported disturbances.
That helped.
A little.
Ryan drove Nora home just after eight.
The city had already started moving.
School buses.
Delivery vans.
People carrying coffee into office buildings.
A man in a neon vest argued with a parking meter while Ryan waited at a red light.
Nora leaned her head against the seat.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
"Actually?"
"I'm tired."
"Pain?"
"No."
"Contractions?"
"No."
"Baby moving?"
"He kicked me when you hit that pothole."
"I didn't hit it on purpose."
"He doesn't know that."
Ryan gripped the wheel.
At the next light, Nora reached over and covered his hand.
"You're driving thirty in a forty-five."
"You're pregnant."
"I was pregnant yesterday too."
"Yesterday went badly."
She did not argue with that.
When they reached the apartment complex, the maintenance supervisor's van was already there.
Ryan parked beside it.
"Stay in the car."
Nora looked at him.
"I'm not made of glass."
"I know."
"You are doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The thing where fear turns you into a mall cop."
Ryan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"Five minutes."
"Three."
"Four."
"Fine."
He left the engine running and went upstairs.
The apartment door stood closed.
The maintenance supervisor, a broad man named Luis whom Ryan had met twice before, waited beside it with a small tool bag.
"You Ryan?"
"Yeah."
"Security told me somebody had a key they shouldn't."
"Long story."
"Most lock changes are."
Luis unlocked the door with the management master and stepped aside.
Ryan entered first.
The living room looked almost exactly as he had left it.
That bothered him.
The pizza boxes were still there.
The cups.
The blanket hanging crooked over the couch.
The normality made the bedroom worse.
Every drawer in Ryan's dresser had been pulled open.
Socks and T-shirts lay across the floor.
Nora's jewelry box sat open on the bed.
The closet door was wide.
Ryan crossed the room.
The lockbox was still on the top shelf.
His relief lasted until he pulled it down.
The combination dial was scratched.
Somebody had tried to force it with something narrow and metal.
"Problem?" Luis called from the front door.
Ryan carried the box into the living room.
"Can you tell if this was tampered with?"
Luis looked at it.
"I'm a lock guy, not CSI."
Ryan almost laughed.
"Fair."
Luis examined the scratches anyway.
"Somebody definitely wasn't being gentle."
Ryan took photographs.
Then he unlocked the box.
Marriage certificate.
Social Security documents.
Insurance papers.
The blue envelope.
Still there.
He removed it carefully.
Luis had already started replacing the lock cylinder.
Ryan sat at the kitchen table and opened the envelope.
The estate notice inside looked untouched.
Behind it was a second document he had forgotten putting there.
A photocopy of his father's death certificate.
Ryan scanned the contents.
May you like
Nothing seemed missing.
Then he noticed something at the bottom of the box.
