On the drive home, Diana hits every green light. She clenches her jaw to keep her molars from grinding against one another, all the while thinking of the conversation she had with Jonathan. She asked him about bringing Tom’s letter to the police, and he warned her from doing so.You’d have to contend with people snooping around your life, Tom’s life. You don’t want that. Not for you, not for the kids.She’s sure he’d change his advice if he knew there was an intruder in her house. Bringing in the police now would be the logical, smart decision. But if this intruder has anything to do with Tom, having law enforcement involved would only make getting answers about his past more difficult. She has to handle this herself.
When she pulls into her driveway, Lakshmi paces in her front yard. The front door to Diana’s house is wide open.
“What happened?” Diana asks, as she throws herself from the car.
“I’m so sorry,” Lakshmi says. She wears fuzzy slippers and her painting apron, the thick canvas stained with the colors of the rainbow. “I couldn’t see the car’s license plate from inside, so I came onto my porch. They must have spotted me through the window. They burst out of the house and drove away before I got to them.”
Diana’s shoulders sag, relief overtaking her adrenaline. She was so focused on getting here that she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledgeher fear. She wanted to talk to this person and get answers, but she’s grateful to avoid a confrontation.
“Did you record everything?”
Lakshmi removes her phone from her apron. “From the second we hung up until they turned the corner down the street. I really think we should call the police, Diana.”
“Let’s see if anything is missing first,” Diana says, leading Lakshmi inside.
The house is eerily quiet, no hums or beeps of overworked appliances, no clanks or hisses from the radiators. If homes could talk, Diana’s would say it was nervous or even scared. Or perhaps she’s projecting her own thoughts. Either way, something is definitely off.
She walks through each room, opening closets and dresser drawers, Lakshmi silently following. The idea that a stranger walked through her space, poking around and invading her family’s privacy, sets Diana on edge. She examines every corner of her house with a critical lens. Her house is tired, she sees. The baseboards are scuffed, paint has chipped away at the corners, and the windows could use a good scrub. No wonder Lakshmi’s first instinct when she saw that person in her house was to ask if she’d hired a cleaner.
There’s good news, though: Nothing appears to be missing. The laptop is on the coffee table where she left it last night; her jewelry, including Tom’s wedding ring, is accounted for in the small leather case in her bedside table; and even her secret stash of cash, stuffed in a makeup bag under the bathroom sink, is untouched.
It’s in the kitchen where Diana finds evidence of her uninvited visitor. At first glance, the room is the same as when she hustled Duncan and Phoebe out the door to school only hours earlier.
Then she sees the mug in the sink.
The mug is white, with a photo of Tom hugging the kids printed on its side, andWe Love Daddycurved around the rim in green script. She and the kids gave the mug to Tom the Father’s Day Duncan was five, Phoebe two. He used it every day, even with a chip in the handle,the result of an unfortunate clash with a frying pan. After Tom’s death, Diana placed it in the hard-to-reach cabinet above the refrigerator, where it remained until now.
“They’ve been here before,” Diana says.
“Why do you think that?” Lakshmi says, joining Diana at the sink.
“This mug was up there,” Diana says, pointing to the cabinet, “behind old Tupperware and vases I never use. That person was in the house for about fifteen or twenty minutes, right? How did they know to go into that cabinet, all the way in the back? If they’d been looking to steal money or jewelry, my bedroom was where to start, but they didn’t because everything is where it’s supposed to be.”
Lakshmi’s eyes widen as she understands what Diana is saying. “They knew where your hidden key was.”
Diana thought of that as soon as Lakshmi said the intruder went into her backyard. Under the deck is a fake stone that hides a backup key to the house. She placed it there herself when she and Tom first moved in.
“Or maybe it was a lucky guess?” Lakshmi continues. “Lots of people have hidden keys.”
“Others know about my past,” Diana recites. “After my death, around the time you find this letter, when I hope you’ve moved on from me, they may come into your life.”
“Who knew about your hidden key?”
“Me, you, Ramesh, my parents, Duncan, Andrea, and Evan.” Diana looks up at Lakshmi. “And Tom.”
Lakshmi’s eyes are unblinking. “You thinkTomtold this person about the key?”
“I have no idea,” Diana says. She loads the mug into the dishwasher.
“Diana, call the police! They can dust that mug for prints. Maybe we can find out who that person was.”
“No police. Or at least not yet.” Diana shuts the dishwasher. “Let’s look at your video.”
Lakshmi’s recording starts when the intruder passes by the dining room window, reappearing in the kitchen. Neither angle provides much detail. “Their hair is tucked under a beanie, and they’re wearing big sunglasses. Maybe the person is five feet tall or so,” Lakshmi says. “I think it’s a woman.”
“They could be male,” Diana says, zooming in on the figure in the window.
“I’m confident it’s a woman,” Lakshmi says. “There’s something about the way she carries herself that says female, though I guess you’re right. It could be a man or even a teenager.”
