“Look at his closet,” I said, pointing toward the open sliding door.

“He didn’t grab things in a hurry.

Every empty plastic hanger is spaced exactly one inch apart on the rod.

He took his dark suits, his cold-weather boots, and his spare reading glasses.”

Lynn stopped folding and looked at the top of the oak nightstand beside the bed.

His late father’s gold pocket watch was sitting on the polished wood, resting on its small brass chain.

“He left his watch,” Lynn said, her voice losing its usual sharp edge.