She answered on the second ring, her voice bright and cheerful. “Hey, hon! Did Lily get home okay? She was such a helper with the girls.”

“Linda,” I said, my voice completely flat and hollow. “I have the Secor Road credit card statements in front of me.”

The cheerful noise on her end vanished instantly. It was like she stopped breathing. The background noise of her television seemed to cut out.

“Ellen, I can explain,” she whispered. Her voice was trembling.

“Explain what, Linda? Explain why my husband was sleeping in your bed while Kevin was at the Jeep plant?”

There was a long pause. Then she let out a shaky, desperate breath. “He told me you two had an arrangement. He said you knew. He said you were the one who suggested it because you were too tired for him anyway.”

I stared at the wall. My jaw locked so tight my teeth ached. The pink sleeping bag lay on the floor between my feet. The silver zipper caught the morning light, shining like a small blade.

“You believed him?” I asked. My voice was very quiet.

“He said you wanted to keep the house but you didn’t want the marriage anymore,” she sobbed. “Ellen, please. I thought you were okay with it.”

I didn’t say another word. I hung up the phone. I sat there in the quiet kitchen for ten minutes. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. A cold, hard anger took over my body, replacing the shaking.

I didn’t call Greg. I called Kevin instead.

Kevin was at the Jeep plant, but he answered when he saw it was me. I told him he needed to meet me at his house immediately. He heard the tone in my voice and didn’t ask questions. He said he would tell his supervisor he had a family emergency.

I drove over to Linda’s house. Kevin was already pulling into the driveway when I arrived. He looked confused and worried.

We walked into the house together. Linda was sitting at her kitchen table, her face red and blotchy from crying. When she saw Kevin with me, her eyes went wide with terror.

“What’s going on?” Kevin asked, looking from his wife to me. “Ellen, what is this?”

I laid the printed credit card statements on the table. Next to them, I laid a folder. It wasn’t just bank statements. I had hired a private investigator three weeks ago because Greg had started hiding his phone and acting distant. I had been hoping I was just paranoid. I had been hoping I was wrong.