I took a slow bite of my sandwich and chewed it without really tasting it.
“Julian lost his phone yesterday,” I said, keeping my voice as even as I could.
Sarah paused, her fingers sticky with juice.
“Just lost it, or lost it in a way that does not make sense?” she asked.
“He thinks he dropped it in the parking lot at work,” I said, twisting my silver wedding band around my knuckle until the skin turned red. “But the carrier logs show he did not use any data for three hours before that.”
Sarah leaned back in her plastic chair, her expression shifting into something sympathetic and tired. She had been through a bitter divorce two years ago, and she carried the scars of it like a badge of survival.
“My ex-husband used to leave his phone in his glovebox on Thursday afternoons,” Sarah said.
