The drive took nearly an hour and forty minutes.
I kept Mark on the phone the entire time.
We talked about Sophie.
The weather.
The neighbors.
The bathroom we’d been planning to repaint.
Anything that kept him connected to me.
Every few minutes, I asked,
“You still there, honey?”
“Still here.”
About halfway through the drive, his voice began sounding clearer.
“Lee?”
“Yes?”
“I know where I am now.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“That’s good.”
“I’m near Harmon. Route 9. I could probably drive home.”
“No.”
I spoke firmly.
“Stay exactly where you are. I’m almost there.”
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he said something that made my chest tighten.
“You found the folder, didn’t you?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
He exhaled slowly.
“How?”
“The mark on your finger. The receipt. The hotel key. Carol at the café.”
I gave a shaky laugh.
“Mark, I thought you were having an affair.”
