Page 39 of Perfect Wives
Nate’s gaze is on me. I can almost hear the questions running through his mind. ‘You’re quiet.’ His tone is probing. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, ignoring the way his eyes flick over my face. It’s the investigator in him. He’s looking for my tells. He opens his mouth, and I can tell he’s going to push again, so I get there first, voice low and fast. ‘I’m not the one lying.’
He lifts his eyebrows in question, gaze flicking briefly to the door and the detectives still talking in the hall.
‘Reality TV?’ I say.
Nate’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he’s annoyed. It’s the look he gets when he shuts down, shuts himself away, won’t speak to me for the rest of the day. I drop my gaze, feeling suddenly lonely. In that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the truth. Our marriage might be bright and shiny on the surface. From the outside, we look polished. But inside? Inside, it’s something else. Not rotten. More like…dried up. Disintegrated. Poke too hard and that shiny surface will crumble.
I try to remember the last time I felt truly close to Nate. The last time he didn’t shrink away from my touch. The last time we had sex was…Christmas? Even then, it had been a drunken fumble that I could tell he hadn’t really wanted.
I don’t know how we’ve drifted so far from the people we were at the start. The couple everyone wanted to be. But I know one thing – I will fix this.
Before either of us can say another word, DS Sató and DC McLachlan step back into the room. ‘Sorry about that,’ Sató says.
‘No problem.’ I offer a smile. ‘Can I check how long this is going to take? I’m due at work soon, and I’ll need to let them know if I’m going to be late. I work a few days a week at Benton’s Estate Agent’s on Park Street.’
‘This won’t take long,’ Sató replies, taking her seat once more. ‘Some new information has just come to light that I’d like to ask you about, and then we’ll be on our way.’
They settle back into their seats, Sató with her phone still in her hand.
‘I’m going to show you a photo one of the officers has just sent me,’ she continues, placing her phone on the counter between us.
The fear grabs me – fierce and unrelenting. I swallow, trying to ready myself for the one thing I’ve been working so hard to stop. Sató taps the screen, but the image that appears isn’t of me. It’s the black iron gates of Magnolia Close.
She zooms in slowly, and there – nestled in the upper curve of the scrollwork – is a tiny black circle. No bigger than a coin. Almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look.
‘It appears there is a small CCTV camera here,’ she says, her voice giving nothing away. ‘We believe it’s motion-activated. As you can see, it’s well hidden inside the ornamental crest.’
I blink, heart hammering against my ribs. A camera. Not watching who is coming into Magnolia Close but watching the houses. Watching us.
How long has it been there? What has it seen?
‘Do you know anything about this?’ Sató asks.
I shake my head. ‘No. I’m on the residents’ association and there’s no way we would’ve allowed this. Who would do this?’
‘That’s something we’re very keen to find out,’ Sató replies as she and McLachlan move to stand. ‘Whoever owns this camera will likely have captured the person who murdered Mr Wilson.’
The detectives thank us for our time, hand us their cards and we show them to the door, promising to be in contact if we think of anything else.
As soon as the front door closes, I’m whirling around to Nate.
‘A hidden camera,’ I breathe out. ‘It has to be one of the residents, doesn’t it? The camera is facing inward. Watching all of us. Why would someone do that?’
Nate doesn’t reply. Doesn’t look at me. Just moves towards the stairs in the direction of his study.
‘Can we talk?’ I call after him.
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t slow. Just disappears like he hasn’t heard me.
I stare after him, my mind racing in a hundred directions. I want to ask him about what he told Sató just now. The TV on loud. A reality show. It sounded plausible, and Sató seemed to buy it.
Except I don’t watch reality TV. So why did he say it? Why did he lie? And who was he arguing with that night?
Then my thoughts drag back to the hidden camera. Who would secretly watch Magnolia Close? I think of Nate, checking his phone at odd times of the day and night. Always with the screen faced away from me. I think about his desk by the window and that desperate need he has to know everything that’s going on.
What have you been up to, Nate? What did you see?
