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“I know. I hardly looked at anything when we were here before. I just threw some clothes into my duffel as fast as I could. You’re right. I have to do this.”
“Do you have anything that’s worth a lot? Sterling silverware maybe, or some jewelry?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I have a few pieces of gold jewelry, but they’re nothing.”
“Let’s make sure nothing is missing.”
I followed Melanie into her bedroom. It wasn’t in as bad of shape as the living area, although a few of her dresser drawers had been upended. She found her jewelry box and confirmed that nothing was gone.
“I guess this will be easy,” she said. “The only thing insurance needs to worry about is replacing the ruined furniture and the door lock. At least nothing was stolen.”
Except Melanie’s sense of security. But I didn’t voice those words. She was doing well, better than I could’ve expected. She’d roamed around town today alone, and now she was walking around her loft. I could tell she was frightened, the way she held on to my hand, the way she incessantly gnawed on her lower lip. But she was doing it, and I was so proud of her. Melanie Carmicha
el was the strongest woman I’d ever met.
The insurance adjuster arrived, and I stayed by Melanie’s side as she answered his questions and he, along with the officer, looked around the apartment, making notes and taking photos.
When the adjuster finally left, she fell against me.
I kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”
She nodded against my shirt. “Just…exhausted. And I suppose a little overdramatic.”
“Is there anything you need? Gather some stuff, and then let’s go home.”
“Home?”
“Well, my home.” But that wasn’t what I’d meant when I said home. I had meant our home. Melanie’s and mine. How I wished that could be. But once she was strong enough, I would have to tell her the truth.
“All right.” She unclamped herself from me and walked about the apartment, gathering things.
She went into her bedroom for a few moments, and I sat down on what was left of the couch. Her book was on the floor. I picked it up and gasped. The word “bitch” had been scrawled on the front cover in black permanent marker. Melanie didn’t need to see this. I shoved the book under a cushion. The officer, seated in a chair across from me, eyed me.
I quickly put the book back, hoping Melanie wouldn’t notice it.
“Jonah!”
I jerked upward, running into her bedroom. “Melanie? What’s wrong?”
I found her in her walk-in closet, sitting on the floor, holding a towel and shoe.
“This is the towel I was wearing when… And the shoe I tried to…”
I pulled her up and took the items from her. “We’ll throw them away. Or we’ll burn them if you want. Anything to cleanse this place of his evil.”
She chuckled nervously at that. “Now who’s being overdramatic?”
“I’ll take them to the dumpster downstairs. We don’t need to burn them. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”
“Sorry,” Officer Loring said. “Those are evidence. They need to stay here.”
Melanie nodded. “Of course. I understand. I’ll be fine. I didn’t want to go in the closet, but most of my clothing is here. When we were here before, I just grabbed clothes out of my drawers so I wouldn’t have to come in here.”
“Look around, Melanie,” I said. “No one’s here. This is your closet. He had no right to be here, but you do.”
“I know.” She began pulling things off of the rack. “I’m okay now.”
“You need help?” the officer asked.
