Sarah hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable as she glanced down at her own basket, clearly realizing she had stepped into dangerous territory. “Clara, I swear it was his car. It had that exact same dent on the rear bumper from his accident last winter. I saw him driving, and there was definitely a woman in the passenger seat.”
Clara stood frozen in the middle of the brightly lit aisle, the ambient hum of the grocery store suddenly fading into a distant buzz. She forced her expression to remain entirely neutral, though her throat felt incredibly dry. “No, you must have seen a similar car. Tom was at home with me all morning. He literally left straight from our driveway at three.”
“Right, right, of course,” Sarah mumbled quickly, her voice dropping an octave as she tried to smooth over the mounting tension. “She had dark hair, so I just completely assumed it was you. It was probably just a client or someone from his office he had to drop off on his way out of town.”