The Parking Ticket That Exposed Her

I found the parking ticket tucked under a pile of mail on the kitchen counter. It was a simple

slip of paper from a downtown garage, but the timestamp was a jagged blade. It was dated last

Thursday at 11:00 PM—the same night Rachel claimed she was "locked in the office" finishing

the quarterly report. The garage wasn't near her office; it was attached to the city’s most

expensive boutique hotel. I didn't call her. I didn't text. Instead,

I drove to that same garage and showed the attendant a photo of Rachel’s car on my phone.

I told him I’d lost my valet ticket. He checked the system and confirmed the car had been there

until 6:00 AM Friday morning. The "Official Story" was that she’d crashed on her office sofa