To Trust a Stranger

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Authors: Karen Robards
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Contemporary
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confide in Debbie, the words had just sort of come out on their own, but the minute they left her lips she experienced an overwhelming sense of relief She had needed to tell someone, she realized. Needed someone to listen to her suspicions and tell her that she was being an idiot-or not.
    “Ah,” Debbie said, the single syllable drawn out. “And what makes you think that?”
    “He's been sneaking out at night after I've gone to bed,” she said.
    “Tonight I followed him. I heard him leave the house and I jumped out of bed and followed him. I lost him on the street where I hit your car. I was turning around in the parking lot when those punks stole the Jag.”
    Julie took a deep, shaken breath and folded her arms over her chest.
    It felt-cleansing, somehow, to utter her suspicions aloud. No more pretending that Sid was the perfect husband, or that hers was the perfect marriage. Telling the truth was cathartic.
    “Let me get this straight,” Debbie said after the briefest of pauses, rocking back on his heels and giving her a severe look. “You were tailing your husband in your own car? A Jaguar? You ever think he might just possibly have glanced in his rear-view mirror and noticed you behind him?”
    Julie's eyes widened as the terrible possibility sank in.
    “I never thought about that. I just jumped in my car and took off after him.” Coming close to panicking at the idea, she mentally reviewed the drive.
    “Girl, you're not safe to be let out.” He shook his head in disgust.
    Julie ignored that, reached the end of her cogitations, and felt relieved. “If he'd seen me, I would have known it. Sid's not subtle. Believe me, I would have known it.”
    Debbie looked thoughtful.
    “It ever occur to you that maybe he's just going out for a late-night snack or something?”
    Julie grimaced. “And winding up on a street with triple-X bars and strip joints? I wish I could think so, but I don't. Besides, we-I have other reasons to think he's having an affair.”
    “Oh, yeah?” He eyed her with interest. “Like what?”
    “On Monday I found eight Viagra pills in his medicine cabinet,” she confessed. “By tonight there were only six. And ... and ... “
    “You weren't the lucky beneficiary, hmm?” Her expression must have told the tale, because he grinned. “Okay, I get the picture. So hubby's been sneaking out at night, has he? Every night? About what time?”
    “Two or three nights a week for the last month. A weekend night, usually, and one or two others. It varies. I usually go to bed around eleven, and he's out by midnight.”
    “You ever followed him before?”
    “No.”
    “So ... “
    He was interrupted by a muffled ringing sound. Digging his cell phone out of the front pocket of his jeans, he opened it and spoke into it. “Yeah?”
    Julie held her breath as the voice on the other end said something she could not quite hear. Then Debbie grimaced.
    “Shit.”
    The expletive scared her. He wouldn't say that if things were going according to plan, would he?
    “Okay, you do that. Yeah. Catch you later.”
    He broke the connection, then returned the phone to his pocket.
    His gaze as it met hers was rueful.
    “What?” she asked faintly.
    “Well, the good news is they found your car.” “They did?” Hope springs eternal.
    “Too late. It's been stripped. Engine, tires, even the stereo. All gone.”
     
    5
     
    “OH, NO.” JULIE FELT LIMP SUDDENLY, as though all the rigidity had suddenly evaporated from her bones. Her knees threatened to give way, and she swayed as the room did a slow revolution around her.
    “Whoa!” Debbie reached out and snagged her elbows, stopping her spineless wilt before she ended up in a puddle on the floor. Mindlessly she tilted toward him, and he pulled her against his chest. He felt very strong, very solid, very safe-a rock to lean on. She snagged handfuls of his T-shirt for support and breathed.
    “Okay, don't panic. We can still figure out something to get you off the

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