Most of them were labeled with the names of Daniel’s former consulting clients.

Near the back of the box, one thick green folder had no label at all.

I pulled it out and opened it under the harsh fluorescent light overhead.

It was full of printed screenshots.

The pages were curled at the edges.

They were text message threads between Daniel and Melissa, printed straight from his phone and filed away.

I sat on a plastic step stool and read the top page.

The messages were dated early March, right after Daniel had changed the password on our home computer.