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I tried not to dwell on that prospect. I told myself it’d work out all right in the end. But I must admit that every time I wasn’t otherwise occupied, I was mentally rehearsing answers to every line of police questioning I could think of. And whenever I did that, I got butterflies in my stomach.
That evening as soon as Sandra got home, I went into the kitchen with her, making sure we were out of earshot of the kids.
“Please sit down, Sandra,” I said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
She looked troubled. Perhaps she was worried I was going to bring up the subject of her affair with Brian. She pulled a chair out from under the table and apprehensively sat on it. I took a seat myself.
“It’s about Brian,” I said. She went from troubled to panic stricken. “There’s no easy way to tell y
