Next up, I started working the menu system, identifying possible history files and running Pasco on the contents. Shoulders hunched, head down, I pecked away at the computer with eyes glued to microscopic type on the screen and ears perked for the first sound of Jason’s car in the driveway.

I didn’t know what I was doing, and everything took longer than I thought. Next thing I knew, it was after midnight and Jason was due home any minute. I was still running reports and hadn’t figured out yet how to uninstall Pasco, whose mere presence on the desktop would alert Jason that I knew something was going on.

I was hopped up and jumpy when I finally got the dialogue box asking if I wanted to open or save the CSV. I didn’t know what I should do, but I was running out of time, so I hit Open and watched an Excel spreadsheet fill the screen before me.

I figured I would discover dozens of URLs. Porn sites? Chat rooms? More terrible photos of terrified little boys? Evidence that the man I’d chosen to raise my child was a hard-core pedophile, or one of those sick men who trolled MySpace, preying on twelve-year-olds? I wasn’t sure yet what I hoped, or what I feared. My eyes were screwed shut I could barely bring myself to look.

What, oh what, was my husband doing all those long nights?

Three values filled the screen. I already knew what they were before I ever entered the URLs into the web browser: Drudge Report, USA Today, and the New York Times.

My husband held his secrets well.

The next day during free period, Ethan was already waiting for me in the computer lab

“Did it work?” he asked me.

I didn’t know what to say.

“Well?” he said impatiently. “Did you find out what your husband is doing online or not?”

I stared at my star pupil

He remained matter-of-fact. “Sixth-graders aren’t that Internet savvy,” he said. “I mean, I was, but you don’t have a single me in your class, meaning you have nothing to worry about. That leaves your job, but I hack into the school’s computer all the time, and there’s nothing interesting going on here—”

“Ethan!”

He shrugged. “So the last possibility is that you’re worried about something at home. Ree is only four, so it can’t be her That leaves your husband.”

I sat down. It seemed better than standing.

“Is it porn?” Ethan asked with his guileless blue eyes. “Or is he gambling away your life savings?”

“I don’t know,” I said at last.

“You didn’t run Pasco?”

“I did. It returned only three URLs, the same three I’ve seen before.”

Ethan sat upright. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Wow, gotta be a shredder I’ve only ever heard about them. That’s cool!”

“A shredder is a good thing?”