Chapter 9: Storage Cage 18

The storage cages were in the basement behind the laundry room.

Keaton came down with me after his shift. He was still in his scrubs, with a flashlight from the nurses' station in his pocket.

The attendant unlocked the gate with a master key and left us alone.

Cage 18 was a wire box the size of a closet.

It had been packed in a hurry.

Four cardboard boxes were stacked against the back wall with labels in blue marker.

I knew the handwriting.

It had written my name on a hundred birthday cards.

CLAIRE. KITCHEN.

CLAIRE. STUDY.

CLAIRE. BATHROOM.

The last one just said G. DESK.

"Start with the bathroom," Keaton said.

I pulled the box down and slit the tape.

My shampoo. My hairbrush. A tube of the lipstick I had been looking for in March.

At the bottom, in a zip bag, was the orange bottle.

I held it against my chest.

I hadn't known how scared I was until I had it back.

"Fifty-nine pills left," Keaton said, reading the label over my shoulder. "She didn't throw them out."

"She read the label."

"She kept them, though."

"That's what's strange."

I set the bottle in my bag.

Keaton had already opened the fourth box.

"This one isn't yours," he said.

"G. DESK."

"I know. It's his. He packed it into your cage."

I looked inside.

Grady's old desk drawer organizer. Tax folders. Warranty cards. A box of his business cards from five years ago.

Under them was a thick manila envelope.

It had a clinic logo in the corner.

LAKESHORE REPRODUCTIVE MEDICINE.

It was addressed to him.

Keep reading free with an account. Start On Our 6th Anniversary, My Husband Gave My Home to Her from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.