“Then why is your medicine in the refrigerator? Why is your mail here? Why are there photographs of you and my wife everywhere?”

Carol lowered herself into the chair across from the couch. The movement clearly took effort, though she tried not to show it. “She bought it for me four years ago,” she said.

“But she kept the deed in her name.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It isn’t.”

“We didn’t have money for secret houses.”