Maybe he thought I would never look.
Maybe he had become so comfortable lying that he no longer thought he needed to hide things carefully.
I saved copies of everything.
Every photograph.
The video.
The program.
Then I searched Claire’s name.
I found a gift shop near the lake.
Public phone number.
I called.
“Is this Claire?”
“Yes. How may I help you?”
My mouth went dry.
“My name is Lisa.”
A pause.
“I’m Mark’s wife.”
Silence.
Then she laughed nervously.
“I’m sorry. Who?”
“Lisa.”
I swallowed.
“I’ve been married to Mark for nineteen years.”
Her voice hardened.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“You’re sick.”
“Claire—”
“Mark’s wife is dead.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“His wife died twelve years ago.”
My hand started shaking.
Claire’s voice became angry.
“Whoever you are, this is disgusting.”
Then she hung up.
I sat frozen.
