Page 37 of Perfect Wives
‘What are you looking for?’ I ask, the words bursting out before I can stop them.
Both detectives look at me. So does Nate. I keep my head high, my eyes level. ‘I mean…isn’t that what you do in these situations?’ I add quickly. ‘Go through the victim’s things for clues? Phones, letters, that sort of thing?’ I’m rambling now.
A beat of silence stretches between us. My heart hammers. I should have kept my mouth shut, but it’s hardly my strong suit. I’ve always been a talker. But I need to get a hold of myself. If they’d found the photo of me, they would’ve said so by now. This is just routine.
Sató studies me for a second too long before she replies. ‘Mr Wilson appears to have been quite a private man. No social media, no active digital presence. We’re looking through his belongings for contacts – friends, family – anyone who might be able to provide insight into his life and how he died. It’s one of the reasons I’m keen to talk to his neighbours. I’m told this is a close-knit community, so I want to talk to anyone who can shed some light on Jonny’s personal life.
‘Have you found his sister?’ Nate asks, and I’m grateful the conversation has moved on from my outburst.
Sató nods before she continues talking. ‘Do you know if Jonny had a girlfriend?’
Nate shakes his head. ‘There was someone he was interested in. He called her fiery, but that’s all I know. I got the impression she might have been married.’
Sató fires off another question, asking Nate when Jonny spoke to him. I barely hear them, my mind snagging on Jonny. I hate that he knew about my past – that wild, up-for-anything time with my boss, Reggie. I hate that he had proof.
I’m not proud of some of the things I did back then. I made bad decisions in my past and mistakes in my present. I should’ve just admitted to knowing Jonny the first time I saw him in Magnolia Close. Instead, I panicked. He connected me to a lifeNate had no idea about – could never know about. Jonny saw it straight away. My face when I welcomed him.
‘Nice to meet you,’ I said, shooting him a pleading look.
He played along at first, but then we had the street party and he followed me inside.
I still remember how he leaned casually against the worktop, arms folded, smile in place, like he’d been inside my house a hundred times before.
‘I’ve just had a very interesting chat with your husband,’ he said. ‘Nate, isn’t it?’
I busied myself with the ice and scrambled for a reply.
‘He just told me how the two of you met,’ Jonny continued.
I gripped the ice bucket tighter, eyes shooting to the doorway, hoping for someone to interrupt. ‘Jonny—’ I started to say, unsure what would come next.
Jonny pushed a hand through his hair, his smile widening. He was so goddamn relaxed, like we were talking kitchen fittings. ‘I’m guessing you haven’t told him we know each other.’
‘No,’ I said quietly, closing the freezer. ‘And I’m not going to.’ I shrugged, pretended it wasn’t anything but ancient history.
He saw straight through the lie, pulling something out of his back pocket. ‘You won’t mind if I show Nate this photo then?’
I stared at the image – the moment frozen in time. A version of me I wanted to forget. One Nate could never know about. Would never forgive.
I opened my mouth, unsure whether to beg or threaten. Both felt impossible.
All the years I’d spent building this life – the bright, beautiful world of matching pyjamas on Christmas morning and laughter and fun and the host of every party. A vision of perfection for my neighbours and my followers and myself too. Proof I was someone. And then this man – this smug, swaggering man –stood in my kitchen, holding my past between two fingers like a lit match. He had the power to burn it all down.
He must’ve read it on my face – the horror, the helplessness – because he laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Georgie,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone about your past. Or that we knew each other.’
I almost believed him. Almost let myself breathe again. But of course it wasn’t going to be that simple.
‘I’m sure we can think of a way for you to repay me for my silence,’ he added, stepping closer, running a finger down the bare skin of my arm like he owned me. Then he pushed his lips onto mine.
I lurched away, disgusted and upset. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ I spat, my voice too loud in the hush of the hallway.
His laughter had followed me out. ‘By the way,’ he called, ‘you can keep that photo. I’ve got a copy.’
And when I turned, there it was. My past, in plain sight. Taunting me.
It took everything not to scream. I waited until he left, then I destroyed it before anyone could see it.
Maybe I should’ve fought harder that day. Threatened him. Paid him off. Told Nate first, on my terms. Spun some half-truth before Jonny could twist it into something worse. But like the detectives sitting at the counter drinking Nate’s fresh ground coffee, Nate never would’ve let it go until he had all the answers. I couldn’t let that happen.
