Chapter 4: What Sandra Knew
Sandra answered on the second ring, which told me she'd been expecting the call.
"I was wondering when you'd phone," she said.
"Were you." It wasn't a question.
"I just think Rob had a right to know what was going on."
I kept my voice level.
"What exactly do you think was going on, Sandra?"
"Lily told us about the man at the tattoo place.
About how you were keeping it secret.
About the hug." A pause.
"I didn't think it was nothing."
"Lily is six years old.
She didn't understand what she saw.
And you took what a child said and turned it into something ugly."
"I didn't turn it into anything.
I just made sure Rob knew."
"You coached her." The words landed flat and certain.
"You told her how to describe it.
You used my granddaughter to carry a message you wanted delivered."
Silence.
"That's a serious accusation," Sandra said finally.
"It is.
And the photo is a serious act.
Did you take it yourself, or did you have someone else do it?"
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"I don't know what photo you're talking about."
"The one sent from an unregistered number at 6:14 in the evening on the day I got the tattoo.
The one with a message that said Rob deserved to know who his wife really is." I waited.
"I have the screenshot.
I have the timestamp.
I'll have the number traced if I need to."
"You can't just—"
"Sandra." My voice didn't rise.
"I want you to think very carefully before you say another word to me.
Because right now I'm still giving you the chance to tell me why.
If you don't take that chance, the next conversation won't be between the two of us."
The line was quiet for so long I thought she'd ended the call.
Then: "He was going to leave you money."
I frowned.
"What?"
"In his will.
Rob was going to change his will and leave a portion directly to you — not to our family, not to be shared.
Just to you.
My financial advisor flagged it.
I saw the draft." Her voice had gone flat, almost businesslike.
"I wasn't going to let that happen."
The room felt very still.
"So you tried to destroy my marriage," I said slowly, "over money."
"Over what's fair.
That money should go to our children.
To Lily.
Not to you alone."
"I am Rob's wife."
"You've been his wife for seven years.
His children have been his children their entire lives."
I didn't answer that.
There was nothing in it worth answering.
"Does your husband know what you did?" I asked.
Nothing.
"Does Marcus know you coached Lily?
That you sent that photo?"
"Marcus isn't—" She stopped.
"I'll take that as a no." I picked up my coat from the back of the chair.
"I think it's time the three of us had a conversation.
You, Marcus, and me.
And I think Rob should be there too."
"You're not going to—"
"I'll be at your house in twenty minutes, Sandra."
I ended the call.
Rob was standing in the doorway.
He'd heard enough.
I could tell from the way he was holding himself — very still, one hand on the door frame, like he needed something solid.
"The will?" he said.
"We'll talk about it on the way."
He didn't move immediately.
He looked at me for a moment — really looked, the way he hadn't since the argument started — and something in his face shifted.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For not asking you first."
"I know." I touched his arm briefly as I passed.
May you like
"Come on.
Let's go hear what Marcus has to say about all of this."
