It was about thirty minutes earlier than I usually got home, but my boss and I both ducked out early on that Friday.
An SUV I didn’t remember seeing before was backing out of my driveway as I turned into it. Carol, my wife was in the front passenger seat. The rear passenger window opened and my ten-year-old daughter Cheryl’s head appeared. I opened my window, smiled and waved at her. But instead of her returning the smile and wave, I heard “We hate you!” as the SUV headed down the street. Somewhat taken aback, I wondered what brought that on. Oh, well, I’d find out when they returned. I pulled into the garage, got out of my car and went in the house.
Carol and I had been married for 12 years. It was her second marriage. Her first lasted only two years and ended when she walked in and found her husband cheating … in their house.
It was my first marriage and I was not a cheater.
When I talked to her earlier in the day, Carol had mentioned needing a couple of things, so when I saw them leaving, I assumed they were going shopping. I also assumed that one of her friends was driving.
I went to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge, went to the living room, sat, turned on the TV, sipped my beer and relaxed.
I finished my beer, looked at my watch and figured I had time for a shower before the girls got home.
After showering, I went to our walk-in closet to get some clean clothes.
I put on a pair of jeans and went to the den to watch some more TV. I sat in front of it for several minutes but couldn’t focus. Something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was. I went back to the bedroom and looked around. Noticed nothing. To the bathroom; noticed nothing so started out. Stopped. Looked around again. Carol’s bathrobe wasn’t hanging on the back of the door. Must be in the laundry. Started out. Stopped. Where was all the makeup and girly stuff on her side of the counter? Shook my head. Walked out. Looked around the bedroom. Nothing amiss. Went to the closet. That’s it. Most of her clothes were missing. I never noticed it when I was in there before. I just stared at the empty clothing rods. I literally backed out of the closet and went to our shared dresser and opened the drawers on her side. All empty.
I almost ran to Cheryl’s room. Virtually all of her stuff was gone; clothes, toys, even her bedding.
Now in a panic, I went through the rest of the house. A couple small porcelain statues, an antique clock, and three oil paintings were missing. On the kitchen counter, unnoticed before, were her keys, phone and credit cards.
I picked up her phone and opened it. Nothing. Everything that could be erased had been. Checked our computer. It was gone. Checked the desk. Opened the safe. Jewelry gone. My birth certificate, Social Security Card, some documents from my parents’ estate, my few rings and watches, and some jewelry which had belonged to my mother were there. Marriage License, ripped to shreds. There were also the documents pertaining to our house. On top of them was a note in Carol’s handwriting, ‘It’s all yours.’ The note was paper clipped to a Power of Attorney (POA) for selling the house.
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