I ended the call and bolted downstairs to the garage. The sight that greeted me made my legs go weak because the car was gone and the place where it should have been was completely empty.
It was clear I had both car keys in my hand. How could the car just vanish?
As I took a deep breath, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ellen Bordeaux, the receptionist at my company.
Then I opened my mouth to ask, “Hey, do you know what time Arnold got to the office today? Has he left at all?”
“Mr. Jefferson got in around ten this morning,” she said. “He’s been in a meeting with the design team ever since. He hasn’t even taken a lunch break. He definitely hasn’t left at all.”
Arnold had left our house around half past nine in the morning and arrived at work by ten o'clock. The police said the crash happened just thirty minutes ago.
Since Ellen was my cousin and we were close, she would not lie to me.
So, if he was not the perpetrator, who could it be?
I did not say anything for a while. Finally, Ellen persuaded me with a lowered voice, “Don’t worry, Carol. I’ve got your back. No little vixen is getting near your man.”