Corey Finch planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek, grabbed the morning paper off the porch, and descended the entry steps leading to the driveway. His wife stood in her usual spot, the same spot she stood in every day when he left for work where she waited until he reversed out of the driveway before turning and going back into the house. Others may have viewed the daily ritual as mundane. To Corey it was endearing, a sign of their unwavering love for each other.
In another two months, he’d retire as manager of the local car dealership, and the life they knew would change forever. They’d sell the house, buy a Winnebago, and travel the world together. Nora had already been going through the houses, boxing things up they’d need and donating the rest to the thrift shop.
Halfway to his vehicle, he looked up, saw a man and a woman walking toward him.
“Can I help you folks?” he asked.
The woman and man introduced themselves. The woman, Addison, said some new information had come to light regarding the death of Vivian and Grace Clark—information she believed might lead to police reopening the investigation.
“Why would you want to talk to me about it?” Corey asked.
“Were you with someone at the party?”
“What do you mean—with someone? My parents were there.”
Addison blushed. “You were seen with a woman the night of the party. An older woman. A married woman.”
“What about it?”
Nora walked up beside him, and said, “Corey, what’s going on?”
“This is Addison and Luke,” Corey explained. “They said the cops might be looking into the deaths of Vivian and Grace Clark again.”
Nora pressed a hand to her chest. “I still remember the look on her face when she found her girls the way she did.”
“Wait, you were there?” Addison asked.
“I was,” Nora said.
“Who are you?”
“Nora Finch.”
“She’s the, uhh, ‘older woman’ you mentioned a minute ago.”
“But weren’t you married to someone else?”
“I was,” Nora said.
Addison glanced at Corey. “And weren’t you a lot younger?”
“I was seventeen at the time. She was twenty-two. She’d just told her husband she wanted a divorce. By the time it was finalized and we married, I was nineteen. I’m sorry, what does any of this have to do with why you’re here?”
“The night of Rose’s dinner party, we were told the two of you were seen coming out of a bedroom together.”
“It’s possible.”
“Not in a friendly way. In a compromising way.”
“Meaning?” Corey asked.
“You were seen zipping up your pants.”
Nora cupped a hand over her mouth, giggled. “How funny. I remember how sneaky we thought we were. Who saw us?”
“One of the teenagers.”
“Yes, but who?” Nora pressed.
Corey clutched his wife’s hand. “Honey, I don’t think they want to name names.”
A look of confusion swept across Nora’s face. “Why not? Why does it matter now? We’re married.”
“You didn’t come all this way to tell us we’d been outed for something we did forty years ago,” Corey said. “What do you want, another statement? Do you realize how impossible it would be to recall any details now?”
Addison nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry for bothering you.”