The deputy told me the woman behind the man at the door had said she was my husband’s wife. I laughed because I thought he’d misunderstood her. Then he read the name on the lease again. It was mine, exactly as it appeared on my driver’s license. The property was a small house on Route 7, rented since October. I asked who had been paying the rent. He said the payments came from an account that listed my husband as an authorized user. I had never opened that account, and I’d never been to the house.
I confronted my husband when he came home from his “job check.” He didn’t ask how I knew about the property. He asked whether the sheriff had mentioned the woman’s name. I told him yes. He sat down and said she was helping Nathan get back on his feet, and the house was supposed to be temporary. I asked why my name was on the lease. He said he’d put it there because the landlord wanted “a responsible adult.” Then I asked why he’d been taking the shotgun out every morning. He said he was worried about the property. That was when I realized the house wasn’t just somewhere Nathan was staying. My husband had been going there almost every night.
The next morning the deputy called again. He said they had gone back to the house after receiving another complaint. The woman had finally shown them her identification. Her last name wasn’t Nathan’s, and it wasn’t my husband’s. It was the same last name as a woman my husband had dated before we married. I asked what she had told them. The deputy hesitated and said, “Ma’am, she claims your husband has been paying for that house for months and that you know all about it because you’re the landlord.” I told him I’d never seen the property. Then he said they had found something in the bedroom with my name printed on it. A copy of my driver’s license — along with a second lease showing my husband as the tenant.
