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When the black, hairy thing fell out of the envelope and landed on her outstretched hand, Mariah screamed and leapt back, dropping both the envelope and the creature. Nothing happened after a few seconds, and she slipped around the walls to the broom closet, her eyes never leaving the manila envelope. Pulling out the broom, she raised it to waist level, bringing it down hard, over and over. Then, cautiously, she used the handle to slide the envelope off the remains of what lay underneath. She expected a sticky mess, but the paper slid easily away from the black, hairy whorl.
It wasn’t a tarantula. It wasn’t a spider at all. It was hair—a few curls of familiar black hair flecked with gray. It was David’s hair, she was certain. She picked up the envelope to examine it more carefully. Inside were several stiff sheets of paper, which she withdrew. They were 8½-by-11-inch photographs of a man and a woman, naked, on a bed, in various positions of lovemaking. It was her husband, David, and Elsa.
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Chaney seemed startled, then frowned. “Found herself a real prince, I guess.” They shuffled awkwardly, the old tension rising between them like a sudden fog. Finally, Chaney broke the silence. “How have you been, Mariah?”
She glanced away into the trees, her lips pressed tight. Then she sighed and turned back to him. “All right. My daughter’s doing better. She’s settled into a new school now, here in McLean, and she’s making a good recovery.”
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