Chapter 14
He called the trap a retrieval.
Keller emailed Heller at 4:12 p.m. on Thursday: Mr. Hart requests a 30-minute window Friday at 10 a.m. to retrieve documents and clothing from the Bay Street residence, per injunction terms, with deputy present.
Heller forwarded it to me. "You don't have to be there. You can say no."
I wanted to be done. "Let him get his things. I want his key back."
Mara said, "Take the deputy. Don't stay alone."
We set it for Friday. Deputy Marris would stand in the living room, Heller would be on speaker if needed. I would wait in Mara's car and then do a walkthrough after.
At 9:50 a.m., I parked across the street. Marris was already at the door. Richard arrived at 10:03 in his dark blue jacket over a white shirt, a duffel in hand. He didn't look up at the car. I told myself to stay put.
At 10:18, Marris texted: He's asking to leave a bag for you. Says personal items. Want it?
I typed back: No. Leave it.
Marris replied: He left it by entry. He is exiting now.
Richard came out, duffel over his shoulder, and walked to his car without looking around. He drove away toward the highway. I waited until his taillights turned.
Marris met me at the door. "He took clothes, laptop. Left a small gift bag on the console by the door. I didn't touch it beyond photographing. You want to see before we log it?"
Inside, the house smelled the same — coffee, laundry detergent — but colder. The gift bag was cream with tissue paper. A small white card tucked in.
I didn't touch it. "What does the card say?"
Marris used a pen to lift it. He read, "'For us. To start over. —R'"
Heller on speaker said, "Don't open it there. Bring it to the station. If there's anything in there that violates the no-contact or is meant to get you to meet alone, we need it documented."
At the station, Park and Marris opened it on a table with gloves. Inside was a velvet box, a card with a dinner reservation handwritten for Saturday at eight at the Harbor House, and a folded paper that looked like a consent form. The form said "Acknowledgment of Share Transfer Amendment" with a signature line for me, dated 8/18 — three days away — and a notary block already half-filled in Richard's handwriting.
Park photographed each item. "This is attempted tampering and solicitation to violate a court order. The notary block is pre-filled. He was going to get you to sign after dinner."
My hands were cold. I thought about the gala, how he'd whispered he'd forge consent before Monday. Now it was paper, ready to go.
"Do you have cameras at the house?" Park asked.
"Doorbell," I said. "It saves to my phone."
We pulled the footage in the conference room. It showed Richard setting the bag down, adjusting the tissue, looking straight at the camera, then mouthing something. Marris rewound. The audio was faint.
He mouthed, "Come alone."
Heller picked up her phone. "I'm calling the DA. This goes in tonight. He just violated the injunction."
Park bagged the gift, the card, the form, the reservation. He labeled each bag and signed it.
May you like
On the way back to Mara's, I kept my hands on my stomach. The baby moved, a small roll under my ribs. I counted the movement like I had in the hospital. One, two. I was not going to that dinner. I was not signing anything.
At Mara's apartment, I changed the doorbell code and set the footage to auto-save to Heller's email. Marris parked outside again. I watched the street until the light faded, and this time I didn't feel like I was waiting for him to come back. I felt like I was watching him not come back.
