Chapter 5 - A Missing Box
The missing hub was smaller than a paperback and worth less than a decent toaster.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Ortiz told me investigators had photographed the shelf in the pantry where it belonged.
“Are you saying Diane took it?” I asked.
“I'm saying we know someone entered,” she replied. “We don't know who removed anything.”
Our entry system listed two late-afternoon events: the front door closing when Brianna left, then a side entrance opening twenty-three minutes after the ambulance departed.
The user label was FAMILY GUEST.
That code belonged to Diane.
It also belonged to Brianna because Diane had shared it with her years earlier.
My brother-in-law once joked that the Hart women shared everything except blame.
I hadn't understood how accurate that was.
Ryan called from an airport in Doha, stranded between flights.
I told him the hub was missing.
“I can still check the camera account,” he said. “The recordings may have backed up to my phone.”
“Your mother says it doesn't work.”
His silence lasted too long.
“Ryan?”
“She asked me for the code two weeks ago. Said she wanted to water the plants while we were away.”
“We weren't going away.”
“I know.”
I couldn't tell him I forgave that mistake.
I didn't even know what forgiveness would look like anymore.
Mrs. Alvarez arrived with a paper bag of clean clothes and peach tea I couldn't drink because of my medication.
She sat with me anyway.
“I heard another car,” she said suddenly.
“When?”
“Before the ambulance. I was on my back porch. A car idled by your garage while you were shouting. I didn't see who drove it.”
She hesitated, pulling at the bag handles.
“But someone spoke through the open window. A woman's voice.”
“What did she say?”
May you like
Mrs. Alvarez looked toward my hospital door.
“She said, 'Get it done before Ryan comes back.'”
