Page 59 of Our Little Secret

Hidden burner phones and tracking devices.

What had their marriage come to?

She climbed the steps, hit the garage door button. As the big door rolled noisily down, she caught up with Neal in the laundry room and decided she couldn’t hide her phone in its little niche. Not right now.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked.

“Better, I think.”

“You’re still limping.”

“Stairs—not exactly my friends these days,” she said, then asked the question that had been nagging at her. “So, you never looked at the tracker?” She just couldn’t quite buy that he’d installed the device, left it connected beneath the car, then ignored it.

“Nah. Couldn’t figure it out. It was before every person on the planet had an iPhone with a billion apps. You had to hook up the camera, or feed, or whatever you call it through Bill’s company—Clayton Electronics—and I never bothered.”

He seemed sincere, but still, she doubted him. “And his company keeps a log of where the device has been?”

“Maybe. Probably. Or maybe it’s within the device itself. I don’t know. Why? Do you have something to hide?”

“Oh really, Neal?” she said, though her nerves tightened and her throat suddenly turned to sand. Somewhere, either in Clayton’s company’s electronic records or the damned tracking device, was a record of everywhere she’d been since she started driving the car. Or that information could have been wirelessly connected to Neal’s computer. “Look, if you don’t trust me—”

“For the love of God, Brooke, I’m kidding.” He was walking into the kitchen. “Really, it was a joke!”

“Not funny.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” His arm slid around her shoulders and he kissed her on the cheek as they reached the hallway. “And you know, come to think of it, you might ask him about a job. They’re always looking for good salespeople.”

“Not exactly my area of expertise.”

“You sold software and you’re a quick study. Really, you should look into it,” he said, and she figured his enthusiasm was to change the subject. “Didn’t someone say you could sell anything?”

“That was you,” she said, remembering, but she still wasn’t convinced and it must’ve shown on her face because she was still wondering about the bug in her car.

Neal said, “Come on, honey, lighten up.”

Oh sure.

She told herself to take his advice.

She told herself to trust him.

If only I could, she thought.

If only she could.

CHAPTER 14

Upstairs, Brooke saw Leah seated at the table, a glass of wine resting near her phone. As she heard Brooke and Neal approach, Leah looked up, and she seemed more composed than she was earlier.

Good.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a cigarette?” she asked.

“Don’t smoke,” Brooke said, and when Leah’s eyes narrowed she added, “I quit. Remember? When I was pregnant with Marilee. Never took it up again.”

“Right.” Leah leaned back in her chair and her eyes thinned in disbelief. “You don’t smoke like I don’t drink.” She held up her refreshed glass and took a sip. “How about you?” she asked Neal. “Got any ciggies?”

“Me? Nah.” He held up his hands. “Not for years. I’m clean. No more vices.”

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