She looked down at the lamp in her arms.
“He told me this house was half his,” she said. “He said we’d have a yard. A real yard. I’ve never had a yard.” She laughed, a small broken sound. “I picked out where I wanted to put a garden. By the maple tree.”
I didn’t say anything.
There wasn’t anything to say.
After a moment, Vanessa nodded once, as if I’d answered a question, and walked back to the truck.
Later, much later, I’d learn that she’d filed for separation four weeks after that day. That she’d moved in with her sister in Dayton. That she’d given Detective Moreno a full written statement and every message on her phone.
But that afternoon, all I knew was that she carried her lamp to the truck and didn’t look back at Mark when he climbed into the driver’s seat.
