The Apartment Clue
It started as a typical Saturday—dusting the den and straightening up Bruce’s scattered sports magazines while he was out visiting his mother with our son and his brother. Midway through my routine, a notification popped up on Bruce’s iPad. He usually took his devices with him, so seeing it left behind caught my attention. Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced at the screen.
The email was from “Crestwood Apartments,” mentioning a temporary water shut-off from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. for maintenance. It made no sense—we’d lived in our colonial-style home for over ten years. Why would Bruce get emails from an apartment complex?
Concerned, I called Bruce. The signal was poor, and I only heard a muffled response before the call dropped. “Probably just a mistake,” he had said, but the unease lingered. I searched for “Crestwood Apartments” online and found it was located just 20 minutes away. Acting on instinct, I sent a quick email to the leasing office. The auto-reply listed rates and office hours—it was closed for the Easter weekend.
Questions swirled in my mind. Was it a coincidence, or was something being kept from me? Still unsure, I decided to drive to Crestwood Apartments. The complex was modest: several three-story buildings arranged around a courtyard. I sat in the car for a moment, then called my best friend, Lexi.
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