“Dustin.”
“What?”
“When was Marcy here last?”
Dustin scoffed.
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Couple days ago.”
I remembered my wife mentioning that Marcy had stopped by our house two evenings earlier around ten. She had seemed tired. Quiet.
She claimed she had been working late.
But Marcy worked at a dental office that closed at six.
At the time, I had noticed the inconsistency and told myself adults were entitled to privacy.
Now I wondered what she had been trying to keep from us.
Ray walked toward the office.
Dustin grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
Nobody moved.
Ray looked down at Dustin’s hand.
“Take your hand off me.”
Dustin released him.
“Those recordings are gym property.”
“And I own the gym.”
The room went still.
That was new information.
I had assumed Dustin’s uncle owned the place.
Apparently I had assumed wrong.
Ray continued down the hallway.
