Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“He will have to call from a cell phone,” I said. “I shut off the house phone yesterday morning. The account is closed.”
Shaun stopped with his hand on the skillet. “And the electric?”
“I called the utility company from the bank,” I said. “The power at the other house stays in his name until the end of the month, but I transferred our service here starting Monday. It is already done.”
Shaun tapped his foot again, quicker this time, his eyes fixed on the empty cardboard box.
“He still has his key to the suburban house,” Shaun said. “He will walk right in.”
“I left my spare set on the kitchen hook,” I said. “The small silver key ring he took from my purse before he left. I want him to know I found them.”
By two o’clock, the afternoon heat had settled deep into the plaster walls of the upstairs bedrooms. The old oak tree in the front yard kept the nursery shaded, casting long, dark patterns across the floor.
