“I’m sorry,” I said.
Detective Reynolds nodded once, looking down at his notepad. “So the first two trips, we believe he was in San Diego, where he claimed to be, but there were no scheduled trainings on those dates. But for the last two, we found nothing. No credit cards, no cell phone records, nothing. All we have is five hundred dollars taken from the ATM in Newark each time and then no traceable activity for his scheduled three to four days until he boarded the planes to return home.”
“Where were the mystery trainings scheduled?” I knew the answer before he said it.
“Rochester.”
The room seemed to expand then contract until I could see only his eyes—compassionate and pitying.
I’d put Hannah and Leah in bed for the night and felt no obligation to hide my emotions. I let Detective Reynolds back into Greg’s study for the third time in two months so he could look for “supporting evidence.” I had yet to set foot in that room. I asked that he please shut the door when he left and tell me if he took anything.
He returned with a leather-bound journal that I recognized as Greg’s. “Is this okay? I’ll make copies and bring it back.”
I nodded mutely.
Once he was gone, I stood with my head against the door, gazing at the floor. When I felt a soft knock a few minutes later, I thought Detective Reynolds had forgotten something, so I opened the door without hesitation.
Drew stood on the other side, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “You look awful, Claire. What’s happened?”
He dropped his bag and pulled me into an embrace.
“I can’t keep up with all the lies.” My voice was muffled against him and he kissed the top of my head. I cried into his chest, leaving wet circles on his white T-shirt. “I can’t even remember them all.”
“What’s the latest?”
I quickly recapped everything Detective Reynolds had said as I led him to the living room. We sat on opposite ends of the couch. Drew looked as baffled as I felt. “Here’s what I can’t figure out. Even if he was having an affair, where is he? I mean, right now?”
I shook my head. I had asked myself that question a thousand times. “If he left me, wouldn’t he have used his credit cards or something? I’ve been checking our statements. It’s like he’s changed his identity. But that’s crazy. Why would he go through with that? How is that easier than a divorce? He would have no access to any of his money.”
“Unless…” Drew looked uncomfortable. I gave him a go on look. “Are you absolutely sure you know about all his bank accounts?”
“No, I’m not sure at all. I didn’t deal with the money. Greg did. In fact, I haven’t even gone into his study to figure out how to pay our bills. I’m writing checks on a wing and a prayer.” I leaned my head back on the couch pillows, too exhausted to think about it anymore. I was wrung out, my mind blank, a visceral defense.
We sat that way for a while, in silence. Finally, Drew pulled me back against him, and in the security of his arms, I fell asleep for the first time in days.
I woke up the next morning with Drew’s arm still wrapped around my shoulder and my head resting against his chest. I sat up, blinking from the sunlight streaming through the windows, bright and painful. I turned to watch him snoring softly. I extricated myself and covered him with a blanket, knowing he had about twenty minutes of solid sleep left before the girls woke up.
Under the shower’s hot spray, I reviewed the previous evening’s turn of events. I made a mental list of all the evidence supporting Greg’s affair and decided I could no longer play dumb about Greg’s life—our life—before he had disappeared. Or maybe, before he had left.
I let the tears fall freely, safe from the children’s scrutiny that never seemed to miss a thing. Mommy, why are you sad? Were you crying?
I pounded the shower wall with my fist and sank to the bottom of the stall. How? How could you do this to us? Just leave us? Let me think you were dead? Greg was alive. I knew that as certainly as I knew the grass was green. Did you think I wouldn’t let you go? Did you think I would make you stay? Are you free from guilt now? We weren’t perfect, but I would have tried, goddamn it. I would have done anything. If you’d asked, I would have even let you go, just so Hannah and Leah wouldn’t have had to. I put my head down on my arms, and water sprayed over my back, bathing out the sorrow, leaving behind the wrath. I’m done being a victim. And if you’re not dead, you better hope to hell I never find you, Greg Barnes. Because I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I will make you look our children in the eyes when you tell them how you found it within you to leave us forever.