“Looking.”
“You said you'd keep it.”
“I did.”
“Then where is it?”
Mark searched again.
Laura stood.
“Check the belongings bag.”
Howard’s hospital belongings had been placed in a clear plastic bag.
Socks.
Shirt.
Belt.
No watch.
Evelyn entered carrying discharge instructions for the following morning.
She immediately noticed the tension.
“What happened?”
Howard looked at her.
“My watch is gone.”
“The wedding watch?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Let's slow down.”
Mark looked at Evelyn.
“You were the last nurse with him before the procedure.”
Evelyn glanced at him.
“I walked him to pre-op.”
“He had the watch before that.”
Mark said.
Laura looked toward her brother.
“No.”
“You took it.”
“I remember you taking it.”
Mark frowned.
“I gave it back.”
“When?”
“Before transport.”
“I think.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Let's not rely on thinking.”
She placed the papers down.
“We'll check all belongings.”
“We'll call pre-op.”
“Recovery.”
“Transport.”
“Lost and found.”
“We’ll reconstruct the chain.”
Howard’s voice grew louder.
“A watch like that doesn't just disappear.”
“No.”
Evelyn said.
“But missing is not the same as stolen.”
Mark stared at her.
“Where is my father’s watch?”
“I don't know.”
“You were responsible for him.”
“I was responsible for his nursing care.”
“That doesn't mean I handled his watch.”
“Don't tell me you didn't see it.”
“I saw it on his wrist this morning.”
“That is the last time I personally saw it.”
Mark’s frustration hardened.
“My father had a valuable watch.”
“He came back without it.”
“You were the nurse caring for him.”
“Mark.”
Laura warned.
But he continued.
“Who else am I supposed to ask?”
“Everyone who had contact.”
Evelyn said.
“Not just the first person standing in front of you.”
Howard looked frightened now.
Not merely angry.
“That watch was Margaret’s.”
Everyone quieted.
He looked at Mark.
“Your mother saved for months.”
“First anniversary we could afford anything decent.”
“She bought it because I kept wearing a five-dollar drugstore watch.”
His voice cracked.
“I have had it fifty-four years.”
Mark’s anger intensified because grief had entered the room.
“I know.”
“Then find it.”
Evelyn picked up the phone.
“I’m calling pre-op now.”
She spoke with a nurse.
No documented watch.
Recovery.
Nothing.
Transport.
No one recalled handling it.
Evelyn checked the electronic belongings inventory.
The watch was not listed.
That made sense if Mark had taken it before formal pre-op inventory.
But nobody in the room was thinking clearly enough yet to reconstruct that.
Mark looked at the screen.
“So nobody documented it.”
“It appears not.”
“Convenient.”
Evelyn turned slowly.
“Excuse me?”
He immediately understood how it sounded.
He did not withdraw it.
“A watch that expensive disappears while my father is in your care.”
“You're the last nurse he remembers having with him.”
“And suddenly nobody knows anything.”
Laura stepped between them verbally.