He looked at her. "Which part?"
"You living in a hotel, not answering calls, treating me like I'm some criminal."
Roger noticed the word again.
Criminal.
He gave no reaction. "I came for clothes."
Kimberly stepped between him and the staircase. "Jason meant nothing."
Roger waited.
"It happened," she continued. "I'm not denying that. I made a terrible decision."
"A decision?"
"You know what I mean."
Roger looked toward the stairs. He could still see Jason standing there in his mind. White shirt, untucked, hand at his cuff.
"How long?" Roger asked.
Kimberly looked away.
Roger did not repeat himself immediately. Then he said, "How long?"
"It wasn't some long-term affair."
"That wasn't the question."
"A few months."
"How many?"
"I don't know."
Roger watched her. "You don't know how many months?"
"Why does the exact number matter?"
Roger said nothing.
Kimberly shook her head. "This is exactly what you do."
"What?"
"You turn everything into an inspection report."
Roger almost answered. Instead, he stepped around her and went upstairs. The bedroom had been cleaned.
The sheets were different. The wine glasses were gone. Roger opened his closet. He selected shirts, two pairs of pants, underwear, socks, and another jacket.
Kimberly stood in the doorway. "You've barely looked at me."
Roger folded a shirt. "What would you like me to see?"
She went silent.
Roger zipped the bag. On his way downstairs, Kimberly followed him.
"I said I'm sorry."
"I heard you."
"So what happens now?"
"I don't know."
"Are you divorcing me?"
Roger stopped beside the front door. Forty-eight hours earlier, he might have thought that question required an immediate answer. Now he understood something different.
Not knowing was not weakness. It was simply the truth.
"I haven't decided what happens next."
Kimberly stared at him. "Have you talked to a lawyer?"
Roger opened the door. "Good night, Kimberly."
She grabbed the edge of the door before he could close it. "Roger."
He looked back. Her voice softened. "I don't love Jason."
Roger felt the sentence land somewhere deep, but it did not change the facts. He asked one final question.
"Did you ever bring him here before Tuesday?"
Kimberly hesitated. Half a second, maybe less. It was enough.
Roger nodded. Then he left.
At 7:11, he was back in the Explorer. He did not drive directly to the hotel. He stopped at a Panera Bread near Sawmill Road and sat in the parking lot.
He opened his notebook.
How long? A few months.
How many? I don't know.
Had Jason been at this house before? No answer.