Chapter 13 - The Watch BoxAndrew’s watch box became the first real battle.
He came downstairs carrying two duffel bags, a laptop case, and the righteous fury of a man who believed consequences were theft.
“My watches are missing,” he said.
I stood in the foyer with Officer Greene beside me.
“I don’t know where they are.”
“You moved them.”
“No.”
“They were in the closet safe.”
“The closet safe is yours.”
His eyes flashed.
That was the mistake.
Marisol heard it through the open line.
“Mr. Parker,” she said, “what closet safe?”
Andrew froze.
I looked at him.
We had no closet safe.
At least none I knew about.
Officer Greene turned slowly. “Sir?”
Andrew adjusted his grip on the duffel bag.
“I misspoke.”
“No,” I said. “You didn’t.”
I walked toward the stairs.
Andrew stepped in front of me.
Officer Greene’s voice sharpened. “Move.”
He did.
The primary bedroom closet had always been half mine, half Andrew’s in theory, though Lorraine often complained that I took too much space. Behind Andrew’s hanging suits was a cedar panel that looked fixed.
It was not.
Officer Greene found the seam before I did.
Andrew stood in the doorway, sweating.
“Claire,” he said quietly, “don’t.”
I looked at him.
“How many times did you open this while I slept?”
He said nothing.
The panel shifted.
Behind it was a small black safe bolted into the wall.
I stared.
In my house.
Cut into my closet.
Without my knowledge.
Officer Greene called for another unit.
Andrew immediately began talking.
“It’s just personal items. Watches. Cash. Documents from before the marriage. I had a right to privacy.”
Marisol said, “Do not open it without legal authorization unless he consents.”
Andrew laughed. “I do not consent.”
I turned to him.
“What’s inside?”
“My property.”
“What’s inside?”
He met my eyes and said nothing.
Lorraine appeared behind us, holding her purse and a small suitcase.
When she saw the safe, she stopped.
“You put that in her wall?”
Andrew snapped, “Stay out of it.”
Her face hardened.
“You used to hide things in your father’s garage too.”
He turned slowly.
The silence shifted.
Lorraine seemed to realize she had said something important before anyone else did.
Marisol asked, “Mrs. Parker, what did Andrew hide in his father’s garage?”
Lorraine swallowed.
“Money, sometimes. Things he bought and did not want us to know about. When he was younger.”
Andrew’s voice became low. “Mom.”
But Lorraine was staring at the safe.
“His father said secrets grow teeth.”
No one spoke.
Then my phone buzzed.
Daniel again.
I answered.
“I found partial documents in the trash,” he said. “Some are copies of Claire’s signature.”
My breath stopped.
“Copies?”
“Practice sheets.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
Officer Greene stepped toward him. “Sir, place your bags down.”
Andrew exploded.
“This is insane! You think I forged my wife’s signature? You think I’m some criminal?”
Nobody answered.
Because suddenly everyone did.
Daniel continued, “There are also shipping labels addressed to Andrew Parker at Unit 214. And photographs of what appears to be artwork from the lake cottage.”
My mind flashed to my grandmother’s framed watercolors. Her sister’s quilts. The antique mirror in the cottage hall. Family things Andrew had always called old junk.
I turned to him.
“You moved items from my cottage?”
He looked trapped.
“I was protecting them.”
“From whom?”
He had no answer.
Lorraine whispered, “Andrew, what did you do?”
He spun toward her. “I tried to survive!”
“No,” I said. “You tried to cash out.”
Officer Greene advised him to remain quiet until speaking with counsel.
For once, Andrew listened.
By 5:06 p.m., the locksmith arrived to change the exterior locks under Officer Greene’s supervision. Andrew stood on the sidewalk with his duffel bags, watching like a banished prince.
Lorraine stood beside him, but not close.
Madison was nowhere to be seen.
Daniel returned just as the locksmith finished.
He handed Marisol’s courier envelope to Officer Greene, then looked at me.
“The storage unit is being preserved,” he said. “Your attorney is seeking an order.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he reached into his coat and removed one final photograph.
“I held this one back until I could confirm where it was taken.”
My hand trembled as I accepted it.
The photo showed Andrew, Madison, and Clayton inside the lake cottage.
On the wall behind them was my grandmother’s watercolor of Canandaigua at dawn.
On the table in front of them were papers.
And at the bottom corner of the image, barely visible, was a birthday card.
Mine.
Unopened.
Andrew had brought my birthday card to the cottage.
May you like
He had not forgotten.
He had chosen not to give it to me.
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