The Sixth Key Was With Her Ex

I watched the locksmith work and asked him, "Are you sure there are six?"

"Positive. This German lock cylinder comes standard with two master keys and four secondary keys. A lot of families have them installed. I wouldn't get it wrong."

He glanced back at me. "Sounds like you might be missing a key. You'll want to track that down. If you're sure it's lost, get the lock changed. Last thing you need is some thief finding it."

I didn't say anything, but I was confused. I only remembered five keys in total. I'd never seen a sixth one.

The only reason I'd called a locksmith in the first place was because I'd left my keys at the office and needed to grab some documents in a hurry.

Just then, I heard a click, and the door opened.

I Venmoed the locksmith fifty bucks, walked inside, and opened the drawer at the back of the entryway.

Since we usually used the fingerprint scanner and keypad, the three spare keys—each with a little cartoon charm—were still lying in their velvet box. Add the two keys that me and my wife, Jessica Carrington, were carrying, and that made exactly five.

Jessica always handled things around the house.

I was starting to worry that the locksmith might be right and we'd actually lost a key. I was about to text Jessica when my phone screen lit up. It was an alert from my front door security camera, saying someone had been loitering suspiciously.

I tapped on the playback.

The footage showed that half an hour earlier, a tall, thin man had carefully avoided the camera's main angle and stood sideways in front of my door. He pulled a key out of his pocket and inserted it into the lock as naturally as if he were walking into his own home.

Just as he stepped inside, his side profile turned directly toward the camera.

That face — I would never mistake it.

It was Jessica's ex-boyfriend, Kyle Summerton.

Three years ago, their breakup had caused a huge scene. Jessica had even blocked him everywhere just to get away from him.

And now, this guy who'd disappeared for three years had one of my house's spare keys in his hand.

But that wasn't even the point.

I frowned and slowly dragged the video forward.

Then I realized with horror that Kyle had walked into my house half an hour ago — and never walked back out.

A chill ran down my spine. I scanned the room.

Just as I was about to head for the bedroom, I heard the fingerprint unlock sound from the front door.

Jessica walked in, full of energy.

She saw the spare keys in my hand and said in a slightly scolding tone, "Honey, if you forgot your keys, you should've called me. I would've come home and let you in."

I stared at the sweat on her forehead. When I spoke, my voice was cold as iron.

"Jess, did you ever give one of our spare keys to anyone else?"

Jessica froze mid-motion while taking off her shoes.

"What are you talking about? They're all in the drawer. Who would I give one to?"

Her tone was natural, but I immediately knew something was wrong.