Chapter 2 - The Truck in My Driveway
For three weeks, I pretended I knew nothing.
Kendra kept texting.
Miss you.
Kids miss you.
Can't wait until you're home.
I answered carefully.
Nothing emotional enough to reveal what I knew.
Nothing cold enough to make her suspicious.
One night she wrote:
The house feels so empty without you.
I opened the driveway camera.
The Bennett truck was parked outside.
I stared at it for several seconds before locking my phone.
That moment changed something in me.
Until then, a small part of me had still been looking for an innocent explanation.
Now I stopped looking.
Carlos picked me up from the airport three weeks later.
He studied me as I climbed into his truck.
“You want food?”
“No.”
“Hotel first?”
“No.”
“You sure you want to go straight there?”
“Yes.”
Carlos drove without trying to talk me out of it.
Halfway home, he finally asked, “Want me inside with you?”
“No.”
“If things get ugly—”
“They won't.”
“You can't know that.”
I looked out the window.
“No. But I know I'm not making them ugly.”
That was important.
Haley and Cody lived in that house.
Whatever happened between Kendra and me, I didn't want their home turned into a battlefield.
We stopped half a block away.
Kendra's SUV was in the driveway.
So was the Bennett truck.
My pulse accelerated.
I checked my watch.
2:18 p.m.
The kids were still at school.
For once, timing was on my side.
I took my duffel and walked toward the house.
Every step felt strange.
This was my street.
My lawn.
My front door.
But approaching it felt like entering somebody else's life.
I unlocked the door quietly.
Voices came from the kitchen.
Kendra.
A man.
Papers rustled.
I stopped.
Then the man said, “If he signs nothing, we can still close once the bank clears the second authorization.”
My hand tightened around the duffel strap.
Kendra answered.
“He won't know until he gets back.”
Everything inside me became still.
This wasn't romance.
This wasn't even primarily an affair anymore.
The man spoke again.
“What about Haley?”
My blood went cold.
Kendra lowered her voice, but I could still hear her.
“She knows something.”
A pause.
“But she thinks this is about me seeing someone.”
The man laughed.
“Good. Let her think that.”
That laugh decided it.
I stepped into the kitchen.
Kendra saw me first.
The pen fell from her hand.
Her face went white.
“Michael?”
The man stood so quickly his chair scraped backward.
I recognized him immediately.
Bennett.
He looked from me to Kendra.
“You're not supposed to be home.”
“No.”
I looked down.
Documents covered the table.
One page caught my attention.
My name was printed at the bottom.
Above it was a signature.
It looked almost exactly like mine.
I picked up the document.
“Apparently,” I said, “I wasn't supposed to know about this either.”
Nobody moved.
Kendra recovered first.
“Michael, I can explain.”
“Good.”
My calmness seemed to frighten her more than shouting would have.
“Start.”
Bennett cleared his throat.
“This is between you and your wife.”
I looked at him.
“You were discussing my daughter thirty seconds ago.”
He stopped talking.
Kendra stood.
“Please sit down.”
“No.”
“Michael—”
“Whose signature is this?”
Her eyes dropped toward the document.
“It's complicated.”
“No. It's handwriting.”
She swallowed.
“Let me explain everything.”
“That's what I asked you to do.”
Bennett grabbed a folder.
I put my hand on it before he could lift it.
I didn't threaten him.
I didn't shove him.
I simply held the folder against the table.
“You leave the papers.”
His expression hardened.
“Those are business documents.”
“With my name on them.”
Kendra stepped between us.
“Stop. Both of you.”
I released the folder.
“I'm not stopping anyone.”
Then I looked directly at Bennett.
“You can leave.”
He glanced at Kendra.
That tiny look told me more than either of them realized.
They weren't casual acquaintances.
They had a plan.
And he wanted to know whether she wanted him to stay.
Kendra whispered, “Go.”
Bennett collected his phone but left the folder.
As he passed me, he said, “You don't understand what's happening.”
“Then I'm sure I'll enjoy finding out.”
The front door closed.
Kendra immediately started crying.
It didn't move me the way she probably expected.
“Michael, I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
She stared at me.
I repeated the question.
“For what, Kendra?”
She couldn't answer.
That was when I understood the power of a simple question.
If she apologized for the affair, she might reveal one thing.
If she apologized for the money, another.
If she apologized for the signature...
something much worse.
So I didn't help her.
Finally she whispered, “Everything got out of control.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much money?”
Her face changed.
There it was.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“You checked the accounts?”
“Answer me.”
She sat down.
“It isn't what you think.”
“Twenty-one thousand dollars isn't what I think?”
Her lips parted.
I placed the home-equity paperwork beside her.
“And eighty-five thousand more?”
“We weren't taking eighty-five thousand.”
“We?”
Silence.
That one word trapped her.
I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the bank.”
She stood immediately.
“Michael, don't.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because you'll make everything worse.”
That sentence almost made me laugh.
Instead I called.
I informed the bank that I disputed any pending home-equity transaction containing my signature.
Kendra stared at me throughout the call.
When I finished, she whispered, “You have no idea what you've done.”
For the first time, there was something in her expression I hadn't expected.
Not guilt.
Not anger.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Then tell me.”
She looked toward the window.
“I can't.”
“Can't or won't?”
Before she could answer, a vehicle stopped outside.
I turned.
Carlos's truck.
He hadn't left the neighborhood.
Kendra saw him too.
“You brought someone?”
“No.”
She looked increasingly panicked.
Then her phone buzzed on the counter.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She didn't touch it.
I looked at the screen.
The sender was Bennett.
The preview contained only six words.
DON'T LET HIM FIND THE BLUE FOLDER.
I slowly looked at Kendra.
She knew I had seen it.
And suddenly the $21,000, the forged signature, and the secret visitors weren't my only questions.
May you like
There was a blue folder somewhere in my house.
And two people were terrified I might find it. nd18 nd18
