the funeral, I returned to the hospital to collect Jack’s belongings.
A nurse named Rachel handed me a plastic bag.
“I’m so sorry, Claire.”
“Thank you.”
Inside were his watch.
Phone charger.
Toiletries.
A paperback book.
And a gray women’s cardigan.
I pulled it out.
“This isn’t mine.”
Rachel looked at it.
“Oh. I thought it belonged to the woman who visited him.”
I froze.
“What woman?”
Her face changed.
“I assumed she was family.”
“Jack didn’t have family.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How often was she here?”
“Several times.”
“How long did she stay?”
“Sometimes a few hours.”
“What did she look like?”
“Dark hair. Early forties.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did they argue?”
“Not that I saw.”
“What were they doing?”
“Mostly talking.”
She hesitated.
“There were usually papers spread around.”
Papers.
I immediately remembered the documents in Jack’s jacket.
“Can I see the security footage?”
“I can’t just show you
