“Positive. He was wearing that navy blue jacket he always wears. He used the side door key.”
The side door key. The one we only had because we watched her house when she went on vacation.
A sick, cold feeling settled in my stomach. I walked back inside, locked the front door, and sat down on the living room sofa in the dark.
I looked at his last text: Going straight to the hotel to crash. Dead tired.
If he was cheating, why come back here? Why risk being seen three blocks away? Why choose the neighbor's house when he knew I was right next door?
Then, my phone buzzed again. Another automated email notification.
Your credit card was charged $1,200 at ‘MedFlight Urgent Care’.
I blinked. MedFlight wasn't a clinic. It was a private medical transport service.
Before I could process it, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but the area code was from the city he was supposed to be visiting.
I answered it, my voice shaking. "Hello?"
"Is this Sarah?" a woman's voice asked, sounding professional but strained. "I’m calling from Saint Jude’s Hospital. Your husband’s name was found on an ID badge in a briefcase left at our check-in desk."