Chapter 11: Is the Debt Closed

I dressed in the dark, in Jonas's shirt again, and went down with him to meet the police.

There were two officers in the hall, a man and a woman, and both looked tired.

"Mrs. Arceneaux?" the woman said. "We're sorry to come at this hour. We have a report of a theft."

"A theft of what?"

"A watch. Worth about nine thousand dollars."

I held up my left wrist.

"This one?"

The man leaned in and read the dial.

"Mr. Brett Tourneur says he bought it and gave it as a gift to a friend."

The man looked at his notebook.

"He says you took it from her wrist by force at a dinner on Wednesday."

"In front of forty people."

"That's what he said."

"Then they can tell you I didn't take it by force." I unlocked my phone. "I'll tell you who bought it."

I opened my email and typed in the dealer's name.

The confirmation came up, dated four years ago, from my own address, charged to my own card.

*Vintage chronograph, limited edition. Buyer: Jillian Ellison.*

I turned the screen toward them.

The officers read it, and the woman's mouth twitched.

"He didn't buy it," she said.

"He didn't buy a thing," I said. "He took it off his wrist and put it on hers."

"Then it's civil, ma'am." The man tucked his notebook away. "He can take it to small claims. I wouldn't."

"Thank you for coming," Jonas said.

"Sorry to wake you, Mr. Arceneaux."

When the door closed behind them, Jonas turned and looked at me.

He didn't smile, but he wanted to.

"He called the police over a watch," he said.

"He called them at three in the morning. He was awake."

"So was I," Jonas said.

We went back upstairs.

In the morning I woke with the sun in my face and his arm heavy across my waist.

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