Chapter 17 - STORAGE UNIT 418
By eight the next morning, Detective Aaron Mills had enough evidence to ask a judge for a search warrant.
I did not know every detail in the application.
Rachel explained that I should not become entangled in law enforcement strategy beyond providing truthful information when asked.
What I did know was simple.
Andrew controlled Parker Regional Consulting.
PRC paid for Unit 418 with money traceable partly through our joint finances.
Andrew's text told Dana to keep the unit paid.
He said Lorraine held a spare key.
A controlled-substance vial that Dana admitted giving Andrew had appeared at my house.
Andrew's gate code entered the storage facility minutes afterward.
He had terminated the unit the next morning.
The pattern was urgent enough that the detective did not want to risk the contents disappearing.
At ten-forty, Mills called Rachel.
The warrant had been signed.
I was not allowed to accompany the search.
That was probably for the best.
I spent the next three hours at Rachel's office pretending to review bank statements while staring at my phone.
Samuel Ortiz worked across the conference table.
He had the supernatural ability to ignore emotional weather when numbers were available.
"How can you work right now?"
I asked.
"Work is what we're here to do."
"There could be evidence in that unit explaining half of this."
"Then evidence will still exist whether I reconcile these transfers or not."
I looked at his spreadsheet.
"Do accountants receive special training in being impossible?"
"Continuing education."
I laughed despite myself.
At one-thirteen, Mills called.
"We finished the initial search."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What was there?"
"Quite a lot."
"Can you tell me?"
"Some of it."
Rachel put him on speaker with his permission.
"We recovered multiple boxes of financial and property documents bearing your name."
"Originals or copies?"
"Both."
"My signatures?"
"Yes."
"Forged?"
"That's for examination."
"What else?"
"A portable printer-scanner, two laptops, three mobile phones, document paper, notary-style stamps, and several folders associated with Parker Regional Consulting."
My stomach turned.
"Notary stamps?"
"One appears to bear Sandra Pike's information."
"Kevin?"
"We did not find a Kevin Parker stamp."
Rachel asked, "Any controlled substances?"
Mills paused.
"One sealed vial."
I closed my eyes.
Dana gave Andrew two.
One had been left at my house.
The other now sat in Unit 418.
"Same lot?"
I asked.
"Preliminary visual match, yes."
The significance was immediate.
Whoever placed the vial at my house had access to material linked directly to Andrew.
"Anything showing who delivered the first vial?"
"We're still reviewing video and devices."
"Did Andrew remove anything when he entered last night?"
"Facility video shows him carrying two banker boxes out at approximately twelve-thirty a.m."
"Where did they go?"
"Unknown."
"Was he alone?"
Mills hesitated.
"No."
My pulse changed.
"Who was with him?"
"An older woman arrived separately and entered using the pedestrian gate."
I already knew.
"Lorraine."
"The video quality is sufficient that we believe it is Mrs. Parker."
"She violated the stay-away order?"
"The order restricts the residence and workplace, not the storage facility."
"Right."
I felt foolish for wanting every bad act to fit neatly inside an existing rule.
"What did she do?"
"She carried one small lockbox out."
"Do you know what's inside?"
"No."
"Can you find her?"
"We are attempting to speak with both of them."
"Are they suspects?"
"I'm not labeling anyone for you at this stage."
Professional caution again.
"Understood."
"There is one item I need to ask you about."
"What?"
"We found a folder labeled C.M. refusal."
A chill moved through me.
"Refusal?"
"Yes."
"What's inside?"
"Copies of documents and handwritten notes."
"Andrew's handwriting?"
"We need to authenticate it, but it resembles other samples."
"What kind of notes?"
Mills paused.
"I would prefer to interview you in person before describing all of it."
That sentence frightened me more than any detail he had shared.
"Why?"
"Because some pages refer to incidents involving you, and I need to determine whether those incidents ever occurred."
"What incidents?"
"A medication diversion."
"False."
"An episode at work."
"What episode?"
"It says you struck a patient."
I stood so quickly my chair rolled backward.
"I have never struck a patient."
"I understand."
"What else?"
"A drunk-driving arrest."
"I've never been arrested."
"That's why I need to go through this carefully."
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
"Tell me."
Mills was quiet.
"A suicide attempt."
The room disappeared for half a second.
Not literally.
But sound withdrew.
"I have never attempted suicide."
My voice sounded far away.
"I understand."
"I have never been hospitalized for anything like that."
"I understand."
"Then why is it in a folder?"
"That's what we're investigating."
I sat back down.
Rachel moved closer.
"Detective, preserve every page and metadata source."
"Already underway."
After the call, I stared at the table.
"He invented a whole person."
Rachel said nothing.
"A drug thief."
I counted on my fingers without realizing it.
"A violent paramedic."
Another finger.
"A drunk driver."
Another.
"Suicidal."
My hand dropped.
"He built a version of me who shouldn't be allowed to control money, property, or maybe even her own life."
"It appears that way."
"And Lorraine helped."
"Likely."
"How long?"
"We don't know."
At three, Mills and another detective interviewed me at the sheriff's office with Rachel present.
They showed me copies of selected pages.
One page listed possible corroborators.
Lorraine — instability at home.
Dana — workplace access.
Patrick — medical affidavit.
Kevin — property execution.
Sandra — financial consent.
Vanessa — separation / mental state.
I stared at Vanessa's name.
"He wanted her to corroborate my mental state without ever meeting me."
Mills nodded.
"Did she ever speak with you before the cottage?"
"Never."
"Did she tell you what Andrew said about your health?"
"Yes."
I repeated everything.
Another page was titled Pressure Points.
Employment.
License.
House.
Trust.
Public reputation.
Family.
Under each heading were notes.
Employment — anonymous medication complaint.
License — report after suspension.
House — lien plus deed.
Trust — incapacity.
Public reputation — Lorraine affidavit.
Family — tell cousins substance issue.
I felt ashamed reading it even though none of it was true.
That was the genius of false allegations.
They borrowed emotional force from things that never happened.
"Did any family members contact you about substance use?"
Mills asked.
"My cousin Rebecca asked last month whether I was sleeping enough."
"Why?"
"I thought Lorraine had complained about me being tired."
"Could be unrelated."
"Could be."
Another page contained dates.
Some already passed.
Some corresponded exactly to events.
Fake health inquiry.
Lorraine affidavit.
Divorce filing.
Professional complaint.
The next line was underlined twice.
If house resistance continues — state license allegation, then capacity petition.
"He was following the plan," I whispered.
Rachel looked at Mills.
"Has a capacity petition been filed?"
"Not that we're aware of."
"Can we check?"
"Yes."
The final item they showed me was a draft letter supposedly written by me.
It said I admitted struggling with prescription stimulant misuse and asked Andrew to manage finances temporarily.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
"That's forged."
"Did you ever write anything similar?"
"Never."
"Did you ever ask him to manage your finances?"
"Never."
"Did you ever tell him you were misusing medication?"
"No."
Mills collected comparison samples.
I provided legitimate signatures from work and bank records through counsel.
The detectives showed me several other pages before ending the interview.
One was a blank police-style incident narrative with my name typed into the subject line.
Another was a draft email to my employer written as though it came from an anonymous coworker who feared retaliation.
It described me dropping medication vials, slurring words, and becoming confused during a shift.
None of it had happened.
The draft contained placeholders instead of dates.
INSERT BUSY SHIFT HERE.
INSERT WITNESS NAME IF NEEDED.
The coldness of those placeholders affected me more than the polished lies.
They showed the accusations were modular.
Facts would be added later if required.
There was also a list of possible locations where an incriminating item could be "found."
Car glove compartment.
Work locker.
Bathroom cabinet.
Home office.
Porch delivery if access limited.
My breath stopped on the last line.
Porch delivery.
The method used the night before.
Mills photographed my reaction.
"You've never seen this list?"
"Never."
"Did you ever give Andrew permission to store medication in your car, locker, or home?"
"No."
"Did he have access to your car?"
"During the marriage, yes."
"Work locker?"
"No legitimate access."
"Home office?"
"Yes."
The detective wrote carefully.
That list changed the vial from an isolated act into something that looked planned long before Harbor Ridge collapsed.
I realized how fortunate I had been to freeze access, change locks when authorized, and involve police early.
Every boundary I created reduced the places where false evidence could be planted without witnesses.
The investigators also recovered a spreadsheet tracking my shift calendar.
Dates were highlighted according to whether I worked twelve hours, nights, or consecutive shifts.
Beside several exhausting weeks Andrew had written, BEST FOR CONFUSION STORY.
I stared at those words until Mills closed the folder.
"That's enough for today," he said.
For once, I did not argue.
At five, while we were still at the sheriff's office, Rachel's phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Then looked at me.
"They found Patrick Voss."
"Who is he?"
"Not an attorney."
"But he contacted my clinic as counsel."
"Apparently he used to be a paralegal."
"Used to be?"
"He was convicted four years ago of falsifying records in an insurance scheme."
I stared at her.
"Andrew hired a convicted document fraudster to ask my clinic if I was mentally competent."
"We don't know who hired him yet."
"Come on, Rachel."
"I know what it looks like."
Mills's phone rang.
He stepped out.
When he returned, his expression had changed.
"Mr. Voss agreed to speak with investigators through his attorney."
"Already?"
"He appears interested in limiting his exposure."
"What did he say?"
"Only one thing so far."
Mills looked directly at me.
"He says Andrew Parker wasn't the person who hired him."
"Then who did?"
May you like
The answer came before I was ready for it.
"Lorraine Parker."
