Chapter Sixteen
Stephanie POV
I waited and watched until Jeanne Ellen and The Dick were out of my sight, then I slid out of the car and hurried to my apartment. When I unlocked the door, I was dismayed, though not entirely unsurprised, to see that it was a disaster. The kitchen was filthy and dirty dishes were stacked up everywhere, covered in crusted over food remnants. The garbage was overflowing with takeout and deli containers. I was sort of surprised that he hadn't taken my absence as an opportunity to spend the week out in Greenwich with the second Mrs. Orr, but maybe he was sleeping with other women in our home instead. I didn't need anything in this room and if he wanted to live like this, he could. I wondered if he expected me to clean it up like how he expected me to return to live here with him. Well, fuck him. I squared my shoulders and continued on to my bedroom.
I grabbed the two large suitcases from under my unmade bed and took one back to Zoë's bedroom. I sorted through the remainder of her clothes here, including the ones in the plastic containers on the top of the closet, and put them in the suitcase. I left behind only the things she'd grow out of soon or that she didn't like to wear. I cast a critical eye at the rest of her stuffed animals on her bed and picked out the three she played with above and beyond the favourite one she already had with her in Jersey. I stuffed them all in the suitcase, then zipped it halfway shut. There was still some room and I'd probably need that for some of my clothes.
Back in my bedroom, I laid the second suitcase down on the bed. As I was about to go into my closet to get my clothes, I noticed Richard's laptop laying on his nightstand. He never left his laptop at home, ever. He claimed he had to keep his work private, since he had a legal obligation to his clients, and of course I accepted that. But now, with it staring at me, I wondered if he kept other secrets on it. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Tank.
"Yo," he answered.
"Hey, Tank. How's Zoë doing?" I asked.
"She's great. We're at the park right now, and she's feeling seeds to the ducks right in front of me," he replied.
"Make sure you get pictures if you can capture any with her and ducks in the same frame," I requested.
"No problem, Steph. Were you just checking up?"
"No. I'm at my apartment and I found Richard's laptop. He never leaves it unattended but it's here. What if he has proof of his double life on here?"
"You can't take his laptop, Steph. That would be a crime and you could get in serious trouble."
"So, there's nothing I can do even if he has proof of it?" I asked frustratedly.
"I didn't say that. Do you still have things to do there?"
"Yes, I got here not too long ago."
"Okay, I'll call you back." And he hung up. I frowned at the phone. No phone manners!
I grabbed the clothes I wanted to keep, folding them tightly to fit as much as possible in the bag. When my suitcase was full, I opened Zoë's suitcase and put the rest in her bag. I'd have to leave behind some things, but not as much as I thought. Plus, I have a car with me so I can wear some things down to the car and store them loosely in the trunk, I thought suddenly. I layered my jackets and coats on me, chuckling softly to myself when I realized I probably looked like Joey in Friends when he put on all of Chandler's clothes, and then I wheeled my suitcase downstairs to the car and put everything in the trunk.
In my apartment once more, I grabbed a few large Ziploc bags from the kitchen then went into the bathroom. I packed up the rest of my toiletries and makeup and put it into Zoë's bag. Her suitcase was now full, so I zipped it and wheeled it to the front door. I thought for a moment. Shoes!
I took a garbage bag from the kitchen and went back to my closet. I started tossing in my favourite shoes into the bag and was satisfied when all my favourites fit into one bag. The rest were easy to leave behind and I noted that I didn't wear most of them anymore anyway. The garbage bag joined the suitcase in the front hall. In the living room, I opened the entertainment centre, where we kept all our papers and documents. I started going through them, sorting them into two piles. One pile, comprised of warranties and other unimportant documents, could stay here. I wouldn't need it. The second pile is where I started stacking our tax documents, my marriage certificate, Zoë's and my birth certificates and our life insurance policies. I wasn't sure I'd need everything in this pile, but better to have it and not need it than to leave it behind. Once I was done looking through all the papers, I put the unimportant stack back in the drawer and picked up the important pile. I put it all in a file folder that I found, then put it on top of the suitcase by the door. Let's see, what else…
With a sudden flash of memory, I went back into my bedroom and looked over the dresser top at the end of my bed. I evaluated each item on the cluttered top and picked out something I didn't recognize. The clock had shown up at some point, but I didn't know where it came from. I checked it over and found the small opening at the base. I turned it upside down and noted a small compartment door held in place by a screwdriver. I found a screwdriver from the tool chest in Richard's bottom nightstand drawer and unscrewed the little door. There was a tiny camera and suddenly, the determination that had marked every movement since I entered my apartment was gone. I sank down onto the carpet and tears started to fall. How could someone do this to his own wife? Even if he didn't love me anymore, he must have at one point, right? I sat there for a few minutes, trying to collect myself. I remembered the other camera angle from the video I saw, and looked towards the large painting that had been above our bed for as long as we lived in this apartment. I really liked it and picked it out personally from a street fair down in Tribeca right before we got married. It was a watercolour of flowers, with dream-like and soft calla lilies mixed with peonies and hydrangea in the background. I loved this painting, but I hadn't really seen it in a long time. Here, it was just part of the background. I pulled it from the wall and looked it over. I found a small camera at the top of it, angled downwards. I examined the camera mounting and was relieved that the painting hadn't been ruined to accommodate it. Now, I had a dilemma though. I wanted to take the painting with me, but if I did that, it'd be obvious to my husband that I had been here. But if I left it, I might never see this painting again. But then again, if he went into Zoë's or my closets, he'd be able to tell I wasn't here by the lack of clothes. I sighed. He'll know soon enough. I took the painting and leaned it against the wall by the door, setting the clock next to it. Both items were coming with me just in case they could be used for proof of anything.
I started running everything down to the car, filling the trunk. I put the garbage bag full of shoes in the backseat, since it was the least appealing item that was less likely to inspire someone to break into the car.
Tank called as I was heading back upstairs, and asked if I was able to log into the laptop. I put my phone on speaker mode and set it down on the coffee table and told Tank I'd be right back. I grabbed the laptop from the bedroom and brought it back, setting it down on the coffee table next to my phone. I opened the lid, and the screen came to life. The password field was waiting for my entry, so I typed in Zoe2018 and pressed ENTER. I knew he used this password before, so I was hoping it would work. "It didn't work, Tank."
"Try something else? Most people do not use complicated passwords for locking devices since they'd have to remember it," he said.
I sighed and looked around while searching my mind for possibilities. I didn't yet know the names of his other kids, feeling a slight sting that the possibility might exist that he'd choose their names over Zoë's for a password. I looked back down at the screen and typed in Greenwich69. He's an immature jackass, and he often used passwords with a -69 suffix. No go, though. I thought again. Something else he used as a joke once floated to the top of my mind and I typed it in. LegalEagle69. I was shocked when that worked. "I'm in, Tank."
"Really? That fast?"
I snorted. "Yeah, he's a predictable idiot."
He chuckled. "Well, idiot is right, anyway. Okay, hang on."
I held the line and in a moment, I heard, "Estefanía? Héctor."
"Hola, Hector."
"Estefanía, I'm going to walk you through setting up a remote connection, okay? This computer, it's a Windows, yes?" he said in a thick accent.
"Erm, yes. It's not a Mac."
"Bueno." He spent the next five minutes walking me through a remote connection and at the end asked, "do you have the computer plugged into a power source?"
"No. Should I?"
"Si," he confirmed. "Plug it in and I'll walk you through the settings to keep the screen on always."
After that was done, we hung up and I assumed Hector was now getting information remotely from the computer. I didn't know how we'd prevent Dick knowing that we'd done so though. I should have known Tank had a plan because he called me back a couple of minutes later and asked if I was planning on staying in the apartment overnight. When I said no, he said one of the Rangemen were going to come to New York to put everything back the way it should be. I shrugged and agreed, then texted Gigi and asked her where she was, explaining that I was nearly done here. I waited a few minutes, then her text said she was on a commuter train headed out to Greenwich, so she said I should drive there. She gave me an address for the GPS, and I texted back a thumbs up emoji, then went back to the apartment to take one last look around and lock up. I didn't have any good feelings about this place anymore. From the vision of my husband having sex with my nanny, to the videos and hidden cameras from the secret sex tapes my husband had made, and I knew I'd never live here again. It was also the only place Zoë had ever lived and I regretted that it had been so tainted.
Soon enough, I will have to decide where to live, whether I move back to New York or stay in New Jersey, or even take the opportunity to start over somewhere new. For now, I took a last look at my home of the last five years and closed the door, locking it behind me.