My stomach dropped.
“Hid what?”
He pointed toward the umbrella stand beside the coat closet.
One officer immediately moved Ethan and me back into the kitchen.
Patel and her partner walked toward the closet.
I heard the door open.
Boxes shifting.
Then silence.
A few minutes later, Officer Patel returned.
Her expression was impossible to read.
“We found a black case hidden behind some winter boots.”
She held her hands about a foot apart.
“Does it belong to you?”
“No.”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
After that, everything changed.
They stopped touching anything.
Additional officers were called.
The word “evidence” entered the conversation.
Suddenly, my home didn’t feel like simply my home anymore.
Officer Patel sat Ethan down again.
This time, she asked me not to answer for him.
And the rest came out slowly.
The man had approached Ethan four times over two weeks.
He knew real things about Ryan.
He knew Ryan had coached Ethan’s soccer team.
He knew Ryan used to call him Buddy.
He knew about a fishing trip Ryan had promised Ethan someday.
Those weren’t details from an obituary.
Whoever this man was, he had actually known my husband.
Two days earlier, he had given Ethan the case.
