Chapter 4: The Morning Derek Came Back
I didn't sleep much after that text.
I lay in the dark and read it three more times.
Then I took a screenshot, forwarded it to my own email, and set the phone face-down on the nightstand.
I wasn't frightened exactly.
But I wasn't comfortable either.
By seven in the morning I was up, dressed, and had coffee on.
At 8:15, there was a knock at my door.
Derek stood on my porch holding a personal check and looking like a man who hadn't slept at all.
"Come in," I said.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
He sat at my kitchen table — the first time anyone had sat at that table in months — and wrapped both hands around the mug I gave him.
He looked at the check for a moment before sliding it across to me.
$143.60.
Written in careful, even handwriting.
"I owe you an apology," he said.
"Not just the money.
The whole thing."
"You didn't do it," I said.
"No.
But she did it from my driveway.
With my car.
And I didn't notice." He shook his head.
"I should have noticed."
I picked up my phone and turned it toward him.
"Did you send this last night?"
He read the text.
His jaw tightened.
"No.
That's not my number." He looked up.
"That's her phone.
Her second phone — the one she uses for her sister."
"Her second phone," I repeated.
"She told me she kept it for family calls.
Her sister lives overseas." He set down the mug.
"I'm starting to wonder what else I didn't know."
I didn't say anything to that.
It wasn't my place.
"Has she done anything else?" he asked.
"To you, I mean.
Before the electricity."
I told him about the lawn mower.
About the garden gnome.
With each thing I said, he got a little more still.
"The gnome," he finally said.
"The little stone one?
With the red hat?"
"Yes."
"It's in our backyard.
Behind the shed.
She told me she bought it at a garage sale." He stood up slowly.
"I need to go home."
"Derek." I waited until he looked at me.
"I'm not trying to cause trouble in your marriage."
"You're not causing anything," he said.
"This was already there.
I just couldn't see it."
He left.
I watched him walk back up the driveway, through his front door.
Twenty minutes later, I heard them arguing through the fence.
I couldn't make out words, just the shape of it — Monica's voice high and sharp, Derek's low and steady.
Then a door sl@mmed.
Then silence.
I refilled my coffee and sat back down at my table.
The check was still there.
I looked at it for a long moment.
Then my doorbell rang again.
It wasn't Derek.
Monica stood on my porch, alone, and the expression on her face was nothing like the woman who had shrugged at me two nights ago.
May you like
"We need to talk," she said.
"Just us."
