Chapter 5 - The Hidden Key
I picked up the scattered mail from the porch.
Most of it was junk, but one envelope caught my eye.
It was a bill from a private storage facility across town, addressed to Ryan.
The date of the rental was three days before the fire.
I grabbed my coat and drove straight to the facility.
"I need access to unit 402," I told the manager, sliding my ID across the counter.
He looked at my scarred face, then at the computer screen.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Davis. Your husband explicitly removed you from the access list two weeks ago."
"I'm still legally his wife," I argued.
"Policy is policy. Only Mr. Davis has the key and the passcode."
I walked back to my car, frustrated but energized.
If Ryan had rented a unit right before the fire, he hadn't planned on destroying everything. He had hidden something.
But where was the key?
I thought back to the night he left. He had packed a suitcase quickly, leaving behind his old gym bag and a few winter coats.
I drove back to my parents' house and tore into the closet where we had temporarily stored his things.
I checked the pockets of his heavy winter coat. Empty.
I unzipped his gym bag. Socks, a worn towel, a pair of sneakers.
I picked up a sneaker, intending to throw it across the room in anger.
Something rattled inside the sole.
I pulled out the insole and gasped.
Tucked neatly inside a small cutout was a silver padlock key and a slip of paper with a four-digit code.
Ryan was meticulous, but he was also arrogant. He thought I was too broken to ever look.
May you like
I clutched the key in my good hand.
It was time to see what my husband cared about more than my life.
