Chapter 4: Lift the Foil

Marshall left for the campaign office at eight, with a kiss on my forehead for the benefit of the driveway.

Melanie stayed. She sat at my kitchen island in my second-best robe, drinking coffee from my mug.

"You should rest," she said. "Marshall says you've been through a lot."

I said I would, and went and stood on the front porch with my ankle monitor blinking green.

The monitor allowed the house, the porch and the front walk. Not one step past the mailbox.

At ten, the woman from across the street came out of her front door carrying a casserole dish.

She crossed the road in a cardigan and slippers.

She walked up my path and onto my porch, which was inside the line.

She held the dish out in front of her with both hands.

"Lasagna," she said, loudly. "I'm so sorry for your trouble, Mrs. Kershaw."

Then she lowered her voice. "Don't look at the window."

I didn't. Behind the glass I knew Melanie was watching.

"Nine years ago you stood up in that courthouse and told twelve people my son was home asleep," the woman said.

"He was."

"I remember."

"The District Attorney's office wanted him for ten years. You never even sent a bill."

She tilted the dish. "Lift the foil."

Under the foil, pressed into the cheese, lay a phone in a plastic bag.

"It's the doorbell camera," she said. "It points at my own porch, but it catches the road at an angle."

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Husband Framed Me for His Mistress's Crash from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.