Chapter 2 - THIRTEEN MONDAYSEthan printed the access log.
He didn't know why.
Maybe because seeing the dates on paper made them harder for Amelia to explain away.
Thirteen Mondays.
Thirteen entries.
Every one between nine in the morning and noon.
Every one during hours Ethan was normally at the office.
"Say something," Amelia said.
Ethan looked at her.
She was standing near the window now.
Arms crossed.
Defensive instead of frightened.
That bothered him.
Five minutes earlier, she'd been desperate to get Ryan out of the house.
Now she seemed irritated that Ethan wasn't accepting her version quickly enough.
"All right."
Ethan placed the pages on the bed.
"Why was he here?"
"I told you."
"Thirteen times?"
"He helps."
"On days we don't pay him to?"
"Sometimes I ask him to do extra things."
"Why isn't it on payroll?"
Amelia hesitated.
Ethan noticed.
"Did you pay him privately?"
"Sometimes."
"Cash?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
"Errands."
"Name three."
Her jaw tightened.
"You're interrogating me."
"I'm asking why another man has been coming into our house every Monday while I'm at work."
"Our employee."
"Who was hiding in our closet."
She looked away.
Ethan had known Amelia for eleven years.
Married for eight.
He knew her habits when angry.
Her habits when embarrassed.
Her habits when lying.
The refusal to answer directly was new.
Or perhaps he had never noticed it before.
"Ethan, nothing happened today."
"Interesting sentence."
"What?"
"I didn't ask what happened today."
She went quiet.
His phone vibrated.
A text from Ryan.
I shouldn't have been there. I'm sorry.
Ethan stared.
No denial.
He typed:
Why were you?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then vanished.
No response.
Amelia saw the screen.
"He's scared."
"Of what?"
"You."
"Why?"
"Because you're angry."
Ethan looked at her.
"Should he be?"
She didn't answer.
He walked downstairs.
Amelia followed.
"What are you doing now?"
"Checking something."
The smart-home panel was mounted near the kitchen.
Security cameras.
Door locks.
Alarm history.
Ethan opened camera archives.
The front door camera recorded motion every time anyone entered.
Today's footage loaded.
At 11:07, Ryan appeared.
Gray uniform shirt.
Black pants.
He looked around before entering.
No cleaning supplies.
No work bag.
Nothing.
Amelia stood inside the doorway waiting.
Ethan watched her smile.
Not an employer greeting an employee.
Something more familiar.
She reached toward him.
The recording cut.
Ethan frowned.
"Why did it stop?"
Amelia said nothing.
He checked camera status.
Front camera disabled at 11:08.
Reactivated at 2:31.
His pulse changed.
"Who disabled it?"
Amelia's face tightened.
Ethan checked the event history.
ADMIN USER: AMELIA.
He looked at her.
"You turned off the camera."
"It was glitching."
"At the exact moment Ryan came inside?"
"Yes."
"Thirteen times?"
She stopped breathing.
Ethan searched the previous Monday.
Ryan entering.
Amelia at door.
Camera disabled two minutes later.
The Monday before.
Same thing.
Different clothes.
Same pattern.
Ethan didn't need thirteen.
Three were enough.
He closed the laptop.
Amelia spoke quickly.
"It's not what you're making it into."
"What am I making it into?"
"You think I'm sleeping with him."
"Are you?"
"No."
The answer came fast.
Too fast.
Ethan looked into her eyes.
"No?"
"No."
"Then why hide him?"
"I panicked."
"Why turn off cameras?"
"Privacy."
"From your husband?"
"They're security cameras, Ethan. I don't need you watching everything I do."
"I don't watch them."
"Exactly."
He stared.
That wasn't an answer.
The school bus appeared outside.
Amelia turned.
"Owen."
Ethan's priorities shifted instantly.
Their son could not walk into another scene like upstairs.
"I'll get him."
"I can."
"No."
She looked at him.
"He's my son too."
"I know."
Ethan walked outside.
Owen ran from the bus carrying a dinosaur backpack.
"Did Ryan leave?"
"Yeah."
"Was he in trouble?"
Ethan forced a smile.
"We'll talk later."
At dinner, nobody spoke much.
Owen talked enough for everyone.
School.
A spelling test.
A boy named Caleb who'd thrown milk.
Amelia smiled when appropriate.
Ethan watched her.
How many Monday dinners had they eaten like this?
How many times had Ryan been upstairs hours earlier?
After Owen went to bed, Ethan took a pillow downstairs.
Amelia stood at the staircase.
"You're sleeping on the couch?"
"Yes."
"This is ridiculous."
He almost laughed.
"What part?"
"You don't have proof of anything."
Ethan looked at her.
"That's an interesting standard for marriage."
She walked closer.
"I told you nothing happened."
"Then give me your phone."
She stopped.
Ethan had never asked before.
He hated himself for asking now.
But her reaction told him why it mattered.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because it's mine."
"Ryan was texting you."
"So?"
"Give me the phone."
"You don't get to invade my privacy because you're jealous."
"Jealous?"
Ethan stared.
"I found him inside our bedroom closet."
Amelia's voice rose.
"Nothing happened!"
Owen called from upstairs.
"Mom?"
Both stopped.
Amelia closed her eyes.
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Go to him."
She left.
Ethan sat alone.
Ten minutes later his phone buzzed.
Ryan.
A message.
I can explain the Mondays.
Ethan immediately called.
Ryan rejected it.
Then another text arrived.
Not over the phone.
Ethan typed:
Tomorrow. 8 AM. Coffee shop on Harbor Road.
Ryan responded:
Okay.
Then another message appeared.
Don't tell Amelia I'm meeting you.
Ethan stared at those words.
A second later, Ryan sent one more.
She'll delete things if she knows.
Ethan looked toward the stairs.
His suspicion became something else.
Fear.
May you like
Because Ryan wasn't merely afraid of being caught.
He was afraid of what Amelia would do once she realized Ethan was finally looking.
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