Chapter 4:

When Chuck opened his eyes the next morning, the other side of the bed was already cold and empty. He padded down the hall into the kitchen, noticing right away that Sarah's bag and car keys weren't in their usual place. The only evidence he had that she'd been there that morning was a note on the fridge.

I'm sorry. Last night was a mistake. Call me. She had signed the note with an 'L' and then her name. Chuck wasn't one to analyze things, but the fact she hadn't been able to complete the four-lettered word haunted him. Was she really in such a hurry she couldn't have written the whole thing out, or had she made a conscious decision not to?

_

Waking up two hours too early left Chuck with little to do. Without any distractions, he left the house in under fifteen minutes, appropriately dressed for work with coffee in hand and armed with the week's grocery list. He might as well do something productive while he wallowed in self-pity.

The supermarket was eerily quiet, and Chuck took his time hunting each item down, navigating the near desolate aisles like an explorer in search of lost treasure.

He was in the freezer aisle trying to decide between a package of green beans and string beans when he noticed that he was being watched. The woman in question was a willowy brunette with sleek umber hair. When she realized she had his attention, she smiled and sauntered over to him, strutting like a model down a runway.

"Hello, Chuck," she said, her voice as thick as honey. "Miss me?"

Chuck blinked. "Excuse me?" He tried to distract himself by picking a bag of green beans and tossing it into the cart but when he looked back, she was still there.

The woman laughed though she did not look amused. In fact, she looked like a woman who found little humor in life. Her ochre eyes reminded him of a tigress, and in all honesty, her stature, her demeanor, everything about her, frightened him a little.

"It's okay, Chuck. I know you don't remember." She tilted her head, bemused by his incredulous expression. "But we used to work together."

Chuck gulped. He wondered if he had always felt this uncomfortable in her presence. He was sure even Carmen, the short-fuse she was, would have held her tongue in this instance.

"Do you understand?" she asked, sounding out the syllables.

Chuck was mildly offended but he didn't dare show it. "Yes," he said meekly.

The woman smiled and proffered her hand. "My name is Camille," she introduced. Chuck had no choice but to shake hands with her, meeting with her iron-clad grip.

"Nice meeting you…Camille," he said. "You also enjoy grocery shopping at the crack of dawn?"

The strange woman was mirthless. "No. I came to find you," she said. She grabbed his arm and squeezed to the point of making Chuck wince. "You need to trust me. We have to go."

Chuck laughed nervously, trying to pry her vice-like fingers off of him. "Oh?" he asked. "Really? Why?"

Camille only gripped harder. "You're life is in danger," she said, hissing the words into his ear. Her breath felt like steam burning his eardrum. "We have to leave now!"

Chuck panicked. "Leave? Leave where?" He jumped back, finally breaking free from her.

"Now!" she snapped. "Somewhere safe!"

Chuck took another step back, preparing himself for a possible escape. "Okay…" he whispered, under his breath. "Okay…" He blinked, wondering if this was all real. He pinched himself and it hurt. "Okay. I need to call Sarah."

He reached into his pocket but Camille stopped him before he could punch the number.

"No." She twisted his wrist, forcing him to let go of his cell. "You can't tell Sarah about this. Sarah can't know."

Chuck frowned. "Why not?" he demanded. "It's okay. I trust her."

"No," Camille said forcefully. "Sarah's a liar. She's not to be trusted."

The pent-up frustrations of yesterday piled onto today's, and Chuck felt like he was losing his grip. He had restrained from striking Bryce but this woman was really pushing him. Who was she to make these kinds of accusations?

"I trust Sarah," he repeated and as he did, an inkling of doubt crept into his thoughts. He pushed it aside, unwilling to acknowledge that his wife would ever deceive him, going so far as to blindly disregard the events of the night before.

"Everything that woman says is a lie," Camille warned. "About her work. About the people in her life. Everything. Everything is a lie."

No. Chuck heard himself scream on the inside, but the voice was growing weaker and weaker. How would he ever know?

"I trust Sarah," he repeated, clenching his fists together. "You don't know anything."

Camille folded her arms and sighed. She narrowed her eyes at him, looking more annoyed than concerned. "Fine," she spat. "You'll see."

Chuck was surprised by how easily she gave up and it only filled him with more dread. Was his life really in danger? Did he really need to leave now?

Their conversation over, Chuck regained his senses. Enough of this. He still had work to go to. Still had groceries to buy.

He steered the shopping cart towards the checkout though his eyes were still trained on Camille. She made no move to follow him but the look she gave him was so self-assured, as if she knew she was right.

"Don't tell Sarah anything," she warned with a parting smile. "We'll be in touch."

Chuck looked down for only a second to check his cell, but when he looked back up, she was gone. Like an illusion; poof! and then nothing.

"Sir?" Chuck stared at the space where Camille had just been. "Sir?"

Chuck realized someone was speaking to him. He turned to the cashier and smiled apologetically.

"Are you alright, sir?" the young man asked.

Chuck pulled out his wallet and pretended to search for his credit card, stalling just long enough to avoid answering because in all honesty, he had no idea.

_

Chuck returned home that afternoon, surprised to find the lights in the hall already flicked on. Sarah was almost never home early.

"Sarah?" he called out, setting his work on the coffee table. The blond-haired woman stepped out of the kitchen, a vision of domestic havoc. There were smears of white powder on her face and hair and the apron draped over her front was covered in stains of all colors.

Sarah…cooking? This was strange indeed.

"Hey, Chuck," she greeted, sounding slightly breathless. Her eyes darted nervously back towards the stove and she disappeared from view.

Chuck walked cautiously into the kitchen where he could see she'd had quite the afternoon. The entire kitchen counter was covered in food, both cooked and raw. He couldn't quite figure out what she was trying to create but it looked complicated.

"What's the occasion?" he asked, wrinkling his brows. He smiled, very much amused. Sarah usually oozed confidence in everything she did, but the minute she donned an apron, it was as if she'd lost her mind.

"Nothing. I just wanted to," she said, covering the pot with a lid just as he caught up to her. "No peeking!"

Chuck smiled despite the unsettling dread that came from his apprehensive gut. If her looks didn't kill him, then her cooking most surely would.

He brushed her face gently, dusting away the streaks of flour. Sarah's eyes grew sad as she stared up at him.

"You didn't call me today."

That's right. He'd forgotten. Chuck had tried so hard to forget the incident at the supermarket that he completely forgot about the note.

He swallowed guiltily. There were so many things he didn't want to think about right now.

"I thought we were going to have lunch together." She looked warily up at him, confidence fading from her voice. "Did you get my note?"

He nodded, trying not to remember the reason she'd written it.

Sarah stroked his face ever so gently, her long fingers meandering up into his hair. It felt so good but Chuck couldn't take it; not now. He stopped her and held her hand back, returning it to her side.

The gesture was not lost on either of them. Sarah's eyes clouded with turmoil. She licked her chapped lips, and looked down at the ground.

"How was work?" he asked, sticking to a neutral topic.

"Fine," she said with a shrug, and turned so she had her back to him.

Chuck stuck his hands into his pockets. He stared at her outline, his eyes tracing the delicate angle of her shoulder bone and the slender profile of her neck. Two nights ago they would have never been like this. He would have come home first. They would have made dinner together. Work would have been the last thing on their minds. And he most certainly would not have to stare at his wife this way, knowing that she was closing him off.

"Anything interesting?" he probed, Camille's words ringing in his ear. Everything…everything is a lie. He always did think she was too good for work as a teller.

"No," she sighed, her voice shaking. He caught both the pause before her answer and the sharp intake of breath after. Something was wrong. Everything in words unspoken told him so.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" he pressed.

She turned to face him, her eyes more reflective than usual. He tilted his head slightly and noticed how they looked wetter than they should.

"No," she whispered. "You?"

Chuck was tempted to tell her about Camille but he'd been warned. He wanted to believe Sarah but at this very moment, he knew he was being lied to. She wasn't telling him something.

"No," he replied with a shake of his head. He'd never lied to her before, and his face constricted with the guilt of the deed.

She nodded and put on a smile but it was only a fraction of what he was used to. "Do you want to set the dishes? I'm almost done here."

Chuck stared at her. Was that it? Were they just going to pretend that Bryce Larkin never happened into their lives?

He grabbed her waist before she could turn back to face the stove. "I love you," he uttered. Sarah flinched, not expecting the declaration nor the sudden way he held her.

Chuck wished he had the ability to pull the fog from her eyes and see what was really deep inside, but her walls were impenetrable. This was new to him. Sarah never used to hide things from him.

"I know," she whispered and turned away.

Chuck didn't know what hurt more, knowing that he was being lied to or that she didn't return the sentiment.