My hand went to the wallet almost on its own.
Underneath it was her wallet!
I flipped it open. Claire’s driver’s license stared back at me from behind the plastic window! My wife’s face! Her name!
I couldn’t breathe right.
Behind me, the shower shut off.
Wet feet slapped against the tiles. One step. Another. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t make myself let go of the wallet.
“You weren’t supposed to find that.”
The voice was quiet, only a few feet away. Not angry. Almost tired.
Wet feet slapped against the tiles.
I turned slowly, holding the wallet against my chest as if it might disappear if I let go.
The man stood with a towel around his waist, his hair still dripping, staring at me. He didn’t look dangerous. He looked as if he’d just been caught doing something he’d been dreading for a long, long time.
His eyes moved past me to Ben on the bench, then back to me.
