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At noon, I got a call from the actual auto service center.

"Ms. Hartley, your husband called this morning to request access to your dashcam history."

"...Did you give it to him?"

"He seemed urgent. Said it was for an insurance claim."

"Of course." I kept my voice neutral.

"He also mentioned you might need a temporary vehicle — would you like us to send one over?"

"No. Thank you."

I hung up.

My colleague was still going on about the pink car. "Is your husband's business doing that well? That car is expensive—"

"It's a friend's. They lent it to me."

This made it worse. "A friend? Male or female? Single? Should I—"

The office door knocked. She stopped.

"Oh. Your husband's here. Guess you've got lunch plans."

I looked up. Elliot was smiling at me.