Page 36 of Circle of Strangers
Not yet.
23
“I found this on the dresser today.” I hold up Mara’s delicate gold chain, the two charms catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Will glances up from his book, blinking like he’s been pulled from a dream, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the chain dangling from my hand.
I wasn’t going to say anything, but I got a wild hair earlier and decided to test his reaction. His reaction should let me know if this is something innocuous ... or damning.
He sits up a little, resting his back against the headboard. “Yeah, I left it there for you. It must’ve fallen off your neck at some point. Georgie found it in the driveway.”
“It’s not mine.” I display the initials, holding them flush against the palm of my hand. “MandO. Mara and Oscar. It’s her necklace. I’ve seen it on her before.”
“Ah, okay. Guess I didn’t look that closely. I just saw two sparkly shapes.” He shrugs, the movement easy and natural, like he’s talking about a stray sock. “Georgie brought it to me because she thought it looked fancy, and I figured it might be yours. Didn’t want to risk her running off with it in case it was expensive. You know how she’s been into jewelry lately.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?”
He gives me an endearing look. “It probably fell off when she was going between our house and hers.”
“Mara was wearing it the other day when she was here. I could see it being in the side yard, but how would it end up in our driveway?”
Will shrugs again, handing the necklace back to me. “These things happen. Maybe it slipped off without her noticing. No sense in reading into it.”
I roll the gold letters between my thumb and forefinger, my mind racing. “What do we do with it?”
“Nothing.” He leans back, propping his arms behind his head. “It’s just a necklace. It’s not some missing clue that’s going to tell us where she is.”
The words sit between us, heavy and strange, but his tone is calm—too calm, like there’s nothing about any of this that’s bothering him.
“And who knows, she might even be home by now.” He glances at the clock on the nightstand. It’s late. Almost 11:00 PM. If she did come home, Oscar wouldn’t likely bother us with the news at this time of night.
I survey my husband, trying to find a flicker of something—guilt, suspicion, recognition. But Will looks exactly the same as always: calm, practical, and reasonable.
Completely unbothered.
“It’sjusta necklace,” he reminds me softly, brushing his hand over mine.
Exhausted, I rest the pendant on my nightstand, but the knot in my stomach tightens. He seems so completely clueless yet utterly convincing at the same time, and there’s no denying his explanation is perfectly logical.
The necklace glints faintly under the lamplight, and I wonder—if it’s just a necklace, why can’t I stop thinking about it?
24
Will’s phone rests screen side up on the nightstand, taunting me as he takes his morning shower.
I couldn’t sleep last night.
For eight hours, my mind did nothing but race, coming up with a hundred scenarios, some of which were upsettingly plausible.
Holding my breath, I dive for his phone, tap in the passcode, and pull up his messages. It takes a bit of scrolling, but I stop the instant I find a text thread between Will and someone only entered into his phone as “M.”
Every muscle in my body twists, hot and searing, as I pull up the texts. The most recent one, sent a handful of days ago from Will, is a simple:I miss you.
The rest of the messages between them are damning, almost all of them sent from “M.”
... do you love the cologne?
... I bet the watch looks amazing on you.
... I love you so much.
