Numb and reeling, Natalie climbed out of her car in a daze.
She found Scarlett in the kitchen. Natalie noticed the nanny’s skimpy halter top and exposed shoulders, took in the curve of her hips, and again had the thought that Audrey Adler might not be Michael’s one and only secret lover. She decided tonight would be Scarlett’s final night working for the Hart family.
“Hello, Mrs. Hart. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said flatly. From her purse, Natalie retrieved the money she owed Scarlett and made the exchange without banter before sending the nanny on her way for what would be the very last time.
Natalie listened for her car engine, hearing it rumble to life before the sound vanished into the night. Only when she was certain Scarlett was gone did Natalie let her legs relax enough to carry her to the kitchen, where she sank to the floor, resting her back against the cabinet containing the pots and pans. There, she let herself go, at last uncorking her bottled-up fear. Heaving sobs rattled her ribs as thick tears fell from her eyes. Pain gutted her inside and out.
Exhausted, she eventually settled. Using the counter for support, Natalie hoisted herself back to her feet. She considered going up to check on the children, but from the bottom landing, the stairs looked towering, and her legs felt too weak to make the climb. Instead, Natalie leaned against the railing, heaving heavy sighs.
She was still propped up on the railing when she heard a car coming down the road. Natalie’s heart raced. She knew that engine’s whine. Moments later, headlights cut through the darkness to illuminate the foyer where she stood. Natalie sucked down several shaky breaths before wiping her eyes clean with the back of her hand.
He can’t know I know, she told herself.
Natalie found her way back to the kitchen before Michael opened the door. She poured water into the kettle and then hit the switch at the base to apply heat.
“Babe?” Michael called out tentatively. “I’m home.”
A tangy smell of blood tickled her nostrils. A trick of the mind, she told herself.
“Babe?” Michael said again before appearing in the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, upon seeing her. He set the black nylon travel bag that he used to shuttle work papers to and from the office onto the floor before approaching her with an impish grin.
“Sorry I ran out on you like that,” he said. “Damn hackers. The tech guys are playing whack-a-mole. They knock down one attack, another pops up somewhere else, and I’ve got to be on-site to help calm down our high-net-worth investors. The attacks seem to be nonstop these days. Good for job security, I guess.” He planted a warm kiss on Natalie’s cheek. She worried he’d taste the lingering salt of her tears, but he said nothing. Her gaze went to that workbag. Does he have papers inside, or something else? She blinked away a vision of a bloody knife wrapped in a soiled cloth.
“Everything all right?” Michael asked, running his fingers down Natalie’s arm. His touch almost stung.
“I’m fine,” said Natalie, briskly, thinking she’d failed to muster much conviction.
“Yeah?” Michael stepped back to appraise her from a different angle before setting the back of his hand against her forehead. “You feel clammy. You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, just tired is all. I had to run out to the store because I didn’t have anything for the kids’ lunches, so I asked Scarlett to come back over, keep an eye on things. Maybe it was too much after a long day.”
Scarlett. She had to mention the nanny in case the kids mentioned her to Michael.
“Scarlett again?” A note of doubt came to Michael’s voice. “That’s odd. You haven’t done that before. We usually make do with what’s here.”
A single thought burrowed into her head with the velocity of a gunshot.
He can’t suspect me.
“Anyway, I’m not surprised you’re tired,” Michael said. “Comes with the territory when you don’t sleep. This has got to be driving you crazy.”
He tried pulling Natalie into an embrace, but she held her ground, locking her legs, her body stiffening in an involuntary response.
“Hey,” Michael complained, pulling her harder. “It’s me, babe. Relax.”
His words cut through her. In response, Natalie let herself sink into him, albeit reluctantly and only for a second. She forgot herself and wondered what her lack of sleep might be doing to her.
Michael pressed his warm lips against the top of Natalie’s head, taking a deep inhale. He let out a soft moan as he pulled her against him, tightening his hold. Natalie felt him stir at the same instant that pungent smell of blood tickled her nose. Maybe it was a trick of the mind, or more likely he wore Audrey’s death like cheap cologne.
“The kids are asleep, the house is quiet,” Michael whispered. “Why don’t we go upstairs and let me give you a massage.”
He rolled his tongue along the outer edge of Nat’s ear in a gesture he knew from years of lovemaking would get her fired up. Instead of a soft moan like she might have let out in the past, her body went rigid before she pulled away.
“Hey,” Michael said, looking and sounding hurt. “What’s going on with you?”
“I can’t,” Natalie said. “I just can’t.”
She was looking him over from head to toe for any defensive wounds. Scratches. Red marks. Blood on his fingernails. He’d done a thorough job cleaning himself up, and poor Audrey probably never even had a chance to fight back. Sweat beaded on her brow.
Again, that thought: he can’t know I know.
“Nat,” said Michael, his voice holding growing frustration. “We are husband and wife.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need the reminder,” said Natalie.
“And I don’t want to have a sexless marriage,” Michael retorted. “It’s not what I signed up for.”
Natalie turned her back to her husband, keeping her arms folded across her chest. Michael stepped forward. He wrapped himself around her from behind like a blanket.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, rocking her in his arms as he breathed his apology into her ear. “I don’t know what I can do to make you trust me. Is this about Audrey Adler again?”
Natalie’s body tightened at the mention of her name. She thought it a good thing that Michael couldn’t see the terror brimming in her eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t know that woman?”
Natalie resisted the urge to scoff. She wanted to go to her car, get his T-shirt and gym locker key, throw that bag in his face, and ask him to explain it away, but prudence won out.