Latimer's Law by Mel Sterling

Drew’s house. They were easily a mile away, but Abigail had had all afternoon to walk there. If she was anywhere, she would be at her best friend’s house.
    Marsh slowed to a stop at the next corner, got his bearings and headed north, thinking all the while about the first time Abigail had taken him to Judy and Drew’s for a barbecue, not all that long after they’d put Gary in the ground. He replayed the evening in his mind.
    “Turn left?” Marsh had asked.
    “Yes. Judy and Drew live in that blue house—right here.”
    “Where is it you know Judy from, again?” Marsh guided the Honda to the curb. It was quiet and sweet in the cabin of the car, with Abigail in the passenger seat. Sweet, so sweet. He liked when their elbows brushed, liked the way her light perfume fragranced each breath he took.
    “She used to help me and Gary out sometimes, when we first opened the day care.”
    “Oh, yeah. What’s Drew do?”
    “He’s a mechanic. Got his own shop.”
    Marsh and Abigail had been out to dinner a few times in the past couple of months, but this was the first time any of her friends would meet him since Gary’s funeral. They stood by the car a moment. Abigail must have noticed him biting his lower lip, because she spoke softly as she came around the back of the car.
    “What’s up, Marsh?”
    “I was just wondering if we turned off the iron. Maybe we should go back and check.” He really wasn’t in a party mood; he would rather be back at Gary’s—Abigail’s—house, having a quiet dinner in the kitchen, and maybe some television after. They’d sit on the sofa, only a foot or so apart. Where he could touch her, if he wanted.
    “It shuts itself off after a few minutes. Gary was so forgetful, it was easier to buy one that remembered for him.”
    He nodded, reaching into the backseat for the fruit salad they’d brought for the potluck. Abigail touched his arm. “They liked Gary. They’ll like you.”
    “I’m not Gary.”
    Abigail was clearly touched by his insecurity. Her smile was gentle and understanding. “Just stick close to me, then.”
    The party was on Drew and Judy’s big patio in the backyard. Marsh was friendly to others, but attentive to Abigail, bringing her drinks and surprising her with a filled plate from the buffet table as she sat talking with one of Judy’s neighbors. He stood behind her and reached for an occasional nibble.
    “You know, they’ll let you have your own plate, Marsh.”
    “Yours tastes better.” Marsh laughed. The neighbor smiled at their banter. They were a couple, weren’t they? It was apparent to others already.
    Yes, he thought now. That’s where Abigail will be. Having coffee, getting sympathy from that bitch Judy, telling lies about me to explain why she isn’t home tending to her business.
    He parked and got out of the car. It was time for Abigail to come home, where she belonged. His fists clenched at his sides and he shook them out, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, loosening up, before he strode up the walkway to the little blue house. He couldn’t arrive at the door angry. Drew was probably there.
    Halfway to the door, Marsh turned around, went back to the car and drove around the corner before turning in a neighbor’s driveway and driving slowly back, to park two houses down. He turned off the engine and the lights, and simply watched. Drew might be there, and he’d certainly understand Marsh’s desire to have Abigail back at home where she belonged, but maybe Marsh would have a chance to see for himself just how traitorous Abigail had become.
    Because what if...just maybe...Drew was the man Abigail had run off with?
    Marsh sat in the early twilight, strong fingers drumming on the steering wheel, watching Drew and Judy’s house. Thinking.
    Planning.
    * * *
    “Abigail? Do you understand me?” Cade asked her a second time for agreement, looking into her cloudy gray eyes. Though she was meeting his gaze, she was far away in her