Married to my suspect

The office door opened with a creak and I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the dark room. I clicked the light switch and sighed when nothing happened. We'd often held discussions and meetings in this room and I'd nagged Ethan to no avail about changing the light bulb, same thing with the creak the door makes, they'd all gone undone and now he was dead.

I switched on my phone flashlight and stepped into the room shaking my head at all the boxes, papers and files that were strewn round the room. This was often the cause of our arguments. I needed the place to be a little organized while working to avoid being overwhelmed while Ethan could think even locked in a rubbish bin and even after organizing the place to an extent, Ethan needed to just spend two days in it for it to go back to his comfort zone.

I perched on the only chair that didn't have files on it and brought out the pen from my pocket, circling my hands through its body. Where had Ethan found this pen? What was it going to help me find and where exactly could I search in this bin? At least, I still had access to it. Barely a week after his death, his parents had sold this apartment saying it reminded them of him too much to leave it and when I'd tried to protest it, insisting he couldn't have made the decision willingly and searching the house could be used to determine the cause of his death, I'd been reminded that the only reason my name was a stain in their family records had died and if I didn't want all the adoption documents updated, I'd better leave the house alone. Having my name removed felt like a betrayal to Ethan after he had pushed so much for it so I had bought it anonymously and closed it up for the last three years.

I returned the pen to my pocket and went to the pantry where I knew untouched light bulbs I'd bought would be. They were, along with all the organization shelves and tags I'd also bought.

I carried the bulb back to the office, stepping carefully over the stacks of papers and boxes that looked as though they might collapse under the slightest pressure. My flashlight beam trembled on the walls, catching dust motes floating lazily in the air.

I dragged a chair from the corner and climbed up, unscrewing the dead bulb and replacing it with a new one. The light flickered once, then burst into steady brightness, flooding the room. I squinted, blinking until my eyes adjusted. The clutter seemed worse under proper light. Folders stacked over another, notes scrawled on sticky pads stuck haphazardly to books, a half-empty mug fossilized with dried coffee rings, all on the floor beside the table over flowing with opened files.

It was the perfect environment for my brain to go into overdrive and the random lightbulb that could solve whatever problems we were facing to come on in Ethan's head. In a word, it was chaotic. Chaotic but alive. Ethan was the kind of person that needed to focus on lots of things at a time to feel productive and that worked perfectly for him. When things were fairly calm with the company, he had occupied himself by digging into random occurrences, most of which had helped police and investigators find something important they had been missing. I'd always jokingly told him he had missed his calling and that he should have gone to a Police academy or studied to be an investigator rather than sticking with me with this company, something he had always denied and laughed at. My eyes went to the door as if he might walk in any second and explain the "system" only he understood. My throat tightened.

"What happened to you and didn't I warn you about getting into anything dangerous? Why didn't you listen to me?" I whispered to no one, gripping the chair.

Sliding down, I paced to the desk and sat. My hands rested on the smooth wood, cold and familiar. I hadn't allowed myself to sit here since before the funeral. I opened the first drawer. Pens, receipts, stray keys, flash drives, touch light. The second drawer was worse, random gadgets, opened notebooks with half-finished sketches, letters he'd never mailed. Notes he'd written to remind him of things he needed to not forget, along with some comments to remind him of it's importance. I'd practically forced him to do that after missing so many meetings with important people at the beginning of the company because he had been involved with something else. If you'd asked me, he was a prime example of someone with ADHD but he'd never accepted that and thus, never taken the test.

If I was going to clean out his drawers and floor enough to see the office floor, I'd better get started now. I picked up my phone and found myself dialling Danielle's phone to inform her I wasn't going to be back at home tonight. I dropped the call when I realized what I was doing. She was probably going to be asleep. I started reading the notes, my throat closing at the sight of Ethan's horrible handwriting I cleared my throat, I didn't have time to be sentimental especially since I'd not gotten to his bedroom and I knew it would probably be either in the same situation with his office or worse. One could hardly tell with him but one thing was sure. While there was an option of either the same or worse, it couldn't be better. I started crumpling the ones with meetings I could remember and putting the ones with notes I couldn't remember aside. I would go through those later.

I'd spent about ten minutes on the notes with no end yet in sight when I found a note that had my name crumpled. I pulled it out of the drawer and unfolded it slowly and dropped it on the table, my body going cold. Was that my hands or the note shaking?

Give Nathan the pen. I need to keep it away from me and what better place to put it than where it wouldn't be looked for. Hopefully, I get to the end of this quickly. I feel guilty enough.

That meant whatever the pen meant, whatever had caused Ethan's death, had to do with me. Who was looking for it and wouldn't come to meet me? I palmed my face and started searching the drawer with renewed determination. There may be other notes about me or the pen.

My phone started ringing and I picked it with a sharp "Hello."

"Jonathan. What's going on? I missed your call." Danielle's voice snapped me back to reality and I cleared my throat realizing how hoarse I'd sounded.

"Nothing. Did I wake you up? I figured you'd be asleep." I replied, feeling nothing of the ease I'd forced into my voice.

"No. I was with Eleni. She'd had a nightmare so she called me." She replied.

"Right." We both fell into a semi comfortable silence after that.

"You called earlier." Danielle reminded me in a soft voice.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "I just wanted to tell you I wouldn't be coming home tonight." Even though I mentioned that before I left, I finished silently.

Thankfully, she didn't sound confused at my reminder. "Alright. Let me know if there's any changes. I'll wait for you at home tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Are these late night meetings necessary or is this because you weren't around the past few days?" She asked hesitatingly and I shrugged. There was no way I could tell her the truth.

"Something like that." I replied and heard a muffled yawn. "You should go to bed. Vacation is officially over and I need my secretary fully rested for the work week." I tried to tease but it came out flat. "I don't want to keep you." I said gently in apology.

"Right." She said and dropped the call. I dropped my head in my hand. I had pressing matters to take off and the sooner I could do that, the more I could count on being myself with Danielle.