Carrie was sitting in the living room, panties still balled up in her fist, when she heard Cash’s truck pull into the gravel driveway. Five thirty-five, right on schedule. If he was having an affair, she didn’t know when he was managing to meet the other woman. He left for work a half hour before he needed to clock in, and it took twenty minutes on the interstate to get to the power plant. He got off at five, and was home roughly a half-hour later, depending on traffic. The only times she didn’t know what he was doing or who he was with were when she had class in the evenings. Then she assumed he was at home alone watching television.
Apparently, she’d been wrong.
She heard his key in the lock, then the door opened. Carrie stood and turned towards the hallway, one hand planted on her hip
