Page 75 of Dear Debbie

I consider wiping down anything I might have touched in the house. I can’t remember what I touched though. I definitely touched the doorknob and the front door, but that could be easily explained. He’s my boss after all. It’s not suspicious that I would have been in his house.

There’s his phone though. I would have trouble explaining why my fingerprints are on that.

I find his phone where I left it on the coffee table. I want to get out of here, but I’ve got to wipe this down, or else it’s going to look really bad for me. I go into his kitchen and grab a paper towel. This shouldn’t take long.

Unfortunately, wiping fingerprints off a phone proves to be more difficult than I thought. If I had gloves, it would be easy, but attempting to wipe it down without touching it more during the process seems impossible. I am tempted to search his kitchen to see if he has any rubber gloves I can borrow, but what if I got fingerprints on that?

I do the best I can. I wipe one side, then I hold it around the edges to flip it onto the other side and wipe it down while it’s lying on the coffee table. I can’t guarantee there isn’t a partial print left behind, but I’m wasting too much time. I’ve got to get out of here—now.

I think about slipping out the back, but that seems like it could be worse. Someone sneaking out the back could be more suspicious to the neighbors. Better to just walk out the front door as casually as I can. It’s dinnertime, and a person entering or leaving a neighbor’s house shouldn’t attract much attention.

But as I’m going out the front door, I notice something I hadn’t seen when I came in. Something that makes me realize I shouldn’t have been quite as concerned about the neighbors.

There’s a door cam.

A camera is mounted over the door, which captured me entering the house and now leaving. I was worried about the neighbors, but this camera will tell the police everything they need to know. I am beginning to realize how screwed I am.

But wait. Ken must’ve been shot at least a day ago. The police will match up the camera feed with the time I’m here, and they will recognize that it does not coincide with the time of his death. Maybe this will be fine. I can pretend that I came in here to water his plants, and I never went upstairs.

Again, a voice in the back of my head is telling me that I should just call the police and let them deal with it. And I will.

But first I have to get home and check my garage.

I walk as briskly as I can over to my car and jump into the driver’s seat. I grasp the steering wheel with both hands, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. I need to get a hold of myself. I’m not going to make the situation better if I get in a car crash.

I think about Coach Pike, who dared to kick Izzy off the soccer team, and now he’s in jail. Then I think about Lexi’s boyfriend, Zane, who is lying in a hospital bed with a broken neck.

I reach into my pocket for my phone. I send off a text message, then I start driving.

62

HARLEY

Debbie will be here soon.

I’m cooking spaghetti for dinner. I have a feeling she’s not going to be very hungry, but I have to make something. That’s what a good hostess does after all.

Tonight, I’m going to tell Debbie everything.

I’m sick of sneaking around with Cooper. I prefer more mature men, and it just so happens that a large chunk of them are already married. Over the last decade, the only one who was ever willing to leave his wife for me was Edgar, and that was a huge bust. I can’t stand it anymore. When you’re the other woman, you’re always second-best. Even if they pretend they like you better than their wives, you’re always just their dirty little secret.

Well, I’m sick of being a dirty little secret.

Debbie needs to know that her husband has been messing around behind her back. It might seem cruel to spill the beans, especially since she thinks of me as her friend, but really, it’s cruel not to. She deserves the truth.

For months now, Cooper has been telling me that he doesn’t love her anymore. He says they’re like strangers and barely talk. He admitted that he no longer finds her attractive, and he has no interest in having sex with her anymore. He said they haven’t had sex in years.

He’s grateful to me for coming into his life. He says it every time we’re together. His kids are almost grown, so there’s no reason for him to stay with Debbie. He needs to leave her and start fresh with me.

But none of this will happen if Debbie remains in the dark. She needs to understand that her marriage is over.

And I will be the one to tell her.

As I stir the pot of spaghetti, I wonder how she’ll take it. Will she cry? Am I going to have to comfort her while she cries? Oh God, I really don’t want to.

I’d prefer if she got mad. Maybe threw a few things. I’m more comfortable with anger than sadness.

In the end though, she will have to accept everything. And Cooper will be grateful to me for ripping off the Band-Aid.