Chapter 9 - Behind the Shelves
Laura told me not to open anything I couldn’t identify.
By then, I had learned to call her before curiosity made extra work.
I met Deputy Alvarez and an investigator at the lake house that afternoon.
Jessica came separately.
Ryan didn’t.
The locked storage room was behind the utility area, where I kept spare flooring and boxes from the renovation.
I had never given Jessica a key to that room.
She produced one anyway.
The investigator photographed the door before she opened it.
Inside were stacked cartons, a label printer, and three plastic shelving units.
Nothing dramatic.
No weapons.
No mysterious machinery.
Just boxes with ordinary shipping labels.
Jessica leaned against the wall.
“He sells returned appliances online,” she said.
“Is that what these are?” the investigator asked.
“I don’t know.”
One carton stood open.
Inside were copper fixtures wrapped in plastic.
Another held unopened thermostats.
Ryan worked in purchasing for a regional construction supplier.
I looked at the boxes again.
Company inventory stickers were still attached.
The investigator’s expression changed slightly.
He asked Jessica whose property she believed it was.
“Ryan said they were surplus.”
“Do you have invoices?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you why they were stored here?”
“He said the garage at home was too small.”
The investigator made a call.
He didn’t announce a conclusion.
He didn’t need to.
Jessica slid down onto the bottom stair.
I stayed standing.
“How much did you know?”
“About the rentals? Enough.”
It was the first honest answer she had given me without being cornered.
“I told myself you wouldn’t care if the house stayed clean.”
“You knew I would care.”
She wiped her face.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
“Because you would have said no.”
The room seemed to get colder.
That was the truth beneath every excuse.
She hadn’t misunderstood my boundaries.
She had avoided them.
Upstairs, a phone vibrated.
Jessica pulled hers from her pocket.
Ryan’s name filled the screen.
She declined the call.
A message appeared.
Bring the black box. Tonight. Or I tell Emily everything.
She stared at it.
“What black box?” I asked.
“The one in your study.”
Laura had secured it with the other property left behind.
“What’s inside?”
Jessica pressed the phone against her chest.
“I thought he’d emptied it.”
The investigator stepped closer.
“Jessica, what’s inside the box?”
May you like
She looked at me.
“Copies of things he made me sign.”
