“I’d love to, but I need to get home. My mom’s watching my kids.”
“Do you have children?”
“Three. Triplets. They’re six.”
He chuckled. “That must keep you busy. And their mother?”
“It’s just me and my mom.”
He nodded knowingly.
“You’re doing important work. Raising good kids—that matters most.”
“I hope so.”
“Where do you live?”
“The dull yellow house near the main road.”
He smiled. “Thank you again, Evan.”
“Goodnight.”
I drove home feeling lighter.
I’d done the right thing.
The next morning, loud knocking woke me up.
7:30.
I opened the door—and froze.
A sheriff stood there.
My mom appeared behind me, hand over her mouth.
“Evan?” he asked.
“That’s me.”
“Can I come inside?”
My heart raced. “Did I do something wrong?”
Inside, he turned to me.
“I’m Sheriff Matt. Did you find a wallet yesterday?”
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