I looked inside the closet.
For a moment, I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing.
Officer Bell stood beside me, keeping the door open.
I leaned forward slightly, trying to see past the shelves.
The closet was narrow and ordinary.
There were folded towels, spare blankets, and a few household items I recognized.
I had expected to find something that explained Derek's panic.
Instead, I saw a mess of belongings that seemed to have been pushed inside without much thought.
I looked at Officer Bell.
He examined the shelves carefully.
Neither of us spoke.
Derek was still on the phone, but he had gone quiet.
I could hear him breathing.
“Derek,” I said, “what did you think we were going to find?”
He didn't answer.
I looked at the bottom shelf.
There were papers tucked behind a stack of towels.
Some had slipped onto the floor.
Officer Bell asked me not to touch anything until he had a better look.
I stepped back.
The closet smelled faintly of cardboard and dust.
Nothing about it seemed worth the panic I had heard through the phone.
That was almost worse.
I had expected an obvious explanation.
Something that would make Derek's reaction understandable, even if it didn't excuse what he had done.
But there was no explanation waiting for me.
There were only more questions.
Officer Bell continued examining the contents.
He moved slowly, checking what was visible without disturbing the rest.
I watched his face for any sign that he had discovered something important.
He remained focused.
I wanted to ask him what he thought.
I didn't.
He was doing his job, and I was too upset to trust my own judgment.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
The call had ended.
Derek was gone.
I stared at the screen.
He had been willing to shout at a police officer.
He had begged me to stop the search.
But once the door was open, he had disappeared from the conversation.
I felt the familiar urge to call him back.
I wanted to demand an explanation.
I wanted to hear him admit that he had done something wrong.
I wanted him to sound like the man I had married.
Instead, I put the phone away.
Officer Bell asked whether I recognized the papers on the shelf.
“Not from here.”
He nodded.
I could see that he was taking the situation seriously, but he wasn't going to tell me what he thought the papers meant.
He asked a few more questions about the house and the closet.
I answered as best I could.
I explained that I had used the closet for linens before deployment.
I had never seen the padlock.
I had never agreed to keep anything secured inside.
I had no idea why Derek had chosen that particular space.
Officer Bell recorded my answers.
Then he asked whether I had somewhere to stay if the house needed to remain undisturbed.
I hadn't thought that far ahead.
My daughter was at the hospital.
My husband was on a cruise.
The kitchen was filthy.
Our money was missing.
And now the house itself was part of a police investigation.
“I'll stay near Lily,” I said.
“That may be the best thing for tonight.”
I looked toward the living room.
My duffel bag still lay where I had dropped it.
The stuffed rabbit was inside the outer pocket.
I could see one floppy ear sticking out through the zipper.
I walked over and pulled it free.
The rabbit was soft and pale, with two little black eyes.
I had bought it because Lily liked animals with long ears.
I had imagined her carrying it around the house.
I had imagined her asking me to read a bedtime story while she held it against her chest.
Now I wondered whether she would even have the energy to play with it.
I put the rabbit carefully into my bag.
There was no point leaving it on the floor.
Officer Bell finished his initial inspection and returned to the living room.
He explained that he needed to continue documenting what had happened.
He also told me to keep any records related to the bank account and Derek's travel expenses.
I nodded.
I had already taken screenshots of the transactions.
I saved the cruise photograph, too.
It was a picture of my husband smiling beside his family.
At the time it was posted, he had apparently believed there was nothing wrong with sharing it.
I couldn't stop looking at that photograph.
The people in it seemed to belong to a different life.
I wondered whether Patricia knew about the missing babysitter.
I wondered whether Jenna had asked where Lily was.
I wondered whether any of them had considered that a four-year-old might be sitting alone at home.
I had no evidence that they knew.
I had no evidence that they didn't.
I put the phone away again.
Guessing would not help Lily.
I needed facts.
And I needed to see my daughter.
Before I left, I looked once more at the hallway closet.
The broken lock lay beside the wall.
It had looked strong when I first saw it.
Now it was just a bent piece of brass.
I couldn't help thinking about how much fear Derek had attached to it.
Whatever he had wanted to keep hidden, the lock had not protected him from the consequences of his choices.
I stepped outside.
The evening air felt cool against my face.
For the first time since I had entered the house, I realized how exhausted I was.
I had traveled home early after months overseas.
I had expected to be tired.
I had not expected to feel as if I had walked into someone else's life.
I climbed into my vehicle and drove toward the hospital.
The stuffed rabbit rested on the passenger seat.
I kept glancing at it at red lights.
I wondered what I would say when Lily asked where her father was.
I didn't have an answer I was ready to give her.
I only knew that when she looked for me, I would be there.
That was the one promise I could still keep.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: At the Hospital, My Daughter Held the Rabbit I Had Bought for Her and Asked a Question I Could Not Answer Honestly
I Came Home Early Expecting Two Familiar Faces, but the Little Girl on My Floor Made Me Question Everything I Thought I Knew
Part 5 of 12
