My mother arrives home in the early hours of the morning. She slips quietly into my room to check on me, and I keep my eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be asleep. I can’t deal with her right now. She’s going to take one look at my face and know something is wrong.
I lie in bed until it’s nearly lunchtime, and then I’ve got to get up. I’ve got to face the day and possibly force myself to eat something.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and reach for my phone. There’s a message waiting for me from Hudson:
Are you okay?
No, I am not even a little bit okay. But I don’t feel like dealing with his questions this morning. I owe him a lot, but I can’t face him. Especially since on Monday morning, when he discovers Mrs. Bennett went missing, he’s going to put two and two together.
Nathaniel’s plan seemed like a reasonable idea last night, but now, in the light of day, I can’t imagine how we are ever going to get away with this.
I open my Snapflash app, hoping to see a message from him. After everything that happened last night, he owes me some sort of explanation, right? But there’s nothing there.
I tap out a message of my own:
What happened last night? Please tell me what’s going on.
I press Send, but instead of the message going through, an error flashes on the screen:
The account you are sending to no longer exists.
What?
I feel like I’m going to throw up. Nathaniel deleted his account. How could he do that?
But I shouldn’t panic. It makes sense that he would want to delete his account. Really, I should do the same. There can’t be any sign that the two of us were having an affair, or it would incriminate us both.
Yet I can’t bring myself to delete it. Even though his messages are all gone, vanished after sixty seconds. I want to keep the account in case he needs to talk to me again.
I stumble downstairs to the kitchen in my bare feet and throw some bread in the toaster. I’m not even the slightest bit hungry, but my body thinks otherwise—my stomach is growling. I’ve got the house to myself, because my mother is sound asleep, exhausted from her night shift.
Nathaniel knows what he’s doing. He didn’t delete his account to torture me. He did it because we need to cover our tracks. Mrs. Bennett is dead—there’s nothing we can do about that. But if we get caught, we could both go to prison for the rest of our lives. I have to remember what Nathaniel told me:
Deny everything.
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Chapter Sixty-Five
NATE
THE UNMARKED POLICE car pulls up in front of my house at four in the afternoon.
Calling the police was a risky move on my part. Calling the police to report the disappearance of a person who I know that I killed and asking them to locate a body that I buried myself… Well, it takes guts.
Yet at the same time, it is a calculated move. I can’t pretend that Eve has simply been home for days when her car is sitting at the commuter rail lot. My best bet is to play the role of the bewildered husband. Fortunately, I have taken several acting courses in my lifetime, and for this role, they will serve me well.
I am wearing a sweater and a worn pair of blue jeans when I answer the door. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. It is imperative to show the exact right amount of concern.
When I open the door, I discover my luck has served me well once again. The police officer standing before me is female. My charms invariably perform well on the opposite sex.
“Mr. Bennett?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“My name is Detective Sprague.” The detective is petite—barely reaching my chin—and she has to tilt her head to look up at me. If she pulled her hair out of that painfully tight bun and put on a little makeup, she might be very attractive—but not at all my type. “I got the report that your wife is missing?”
“That’s right,” I confirm.
“May I come in?”
A police officer is not allowed to enter your premises without your explicit consent, but I have nothing to hide. I step aside to allow the female detective to enter my home.
“Now, Mr. Bennett,” she says. “I just want to be clear about the timeline here. You say you haven’t seen your wife since last night?”
I nod in confirmation. “That’s right. She was planning a surprise trip to visit her parents, who live in New Jersey. She had a falling-out with them several years ago, and she was determined to make things right, but she didn’t want to tell them she was coming because she was afraid they would tell her not to. Anyway, she reserved a seat on a late train, and she was intending to get there first thing in the morning. But I’ve been calling her all day, and she hasn’t been answering—the phone goes straight to voicemail—and I checked with her parents, and they said she never showed up.”
I did call Eve’s phone several times as well as placing a quick call to Eve’s parents, just so my story would check out. They were stunned and a bit skeptical when I told them Eve had been planning a visit. In any case, they got off the phone quickly. They are not exactly enamored of me.
“I see,” Sprague says. “And you said she was taking the commuter rail into the city?”
Again, I nod. “Yes. Money has been tight, and she didn’t want to take an Uber all the way into the city, so she thought this would be better. That’s why I went out to dinner, because she was leaving early to catch the train.”
The detective cocks her head thoughtfully. “Okay, well, we did find her car at the commuter rail station, but she wasn’t there. And she did buy those Amtrak tickets, but it doesn’t look like she was on the train. Her tickets were never scanned.”
And this is where the acting skills come into play. I clap a hand over my mouth. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. And it doesn’t look like she got on the commuter rail either, from what I can tell.”
I stumble backward, finally reaching out to grab on to the banister of our stairwell. “Oh, dear God. Do you think she was attacked at the commuter rail station?
“It’s a possibility, yes.”
“I never should have let her go to the station by herself.” My voice cracks. “I offered to give her a ride, but she told me it was fine. She never wanted to inconvenience me, you know?”
I look up at the detective’s face to see if she is buying any of this. Her expression is unreadable.
“I have to ask you, Mr. Bennett,” she says. “Where were you last night?”
“As I said, I went out to dinner at a bar, since my wife wasn’t home.” I’m sure the pretty female bartender will confirm that I was there for hours. I even flirted with her, although she wasn’t my type. “It was late before I came home, and Eve was already gone.”
“And what is your relationship like with your wife?” she presses me. “Have you been fighting or…”
I bark out a laugh. “Fighting? God no. Eve and I have the happiest marriage of any couple we know. You could ask any of our friends. In fact…” I swallow so that my Adam’s apple bobs visibly. “We’ve been trying to have a baby.”
Sprague’s face is still impassive. I may have had the acting classes, but she has the best poker face of anyone I have seen. It’s hard to tell if she believes I’m a worried husband or if she’s penciling me into her list of suspects. “And is there anyone out there who might have wanted to hurt her?”
I hesitate on purpose.
She raises her eyebrows. “Mr. Bennett?”
“I didn’t want to bring this up,” I say, “but you’re going to find out sooner or later. There is one student of Eve’s who seems to have a grudge against her. Her name is Adeline Severson.”
“I see.” She grabs what looks like a small iPad off her belt and scribbles a few notes. “And what exactly happened between your wife and the student?”
I let out a sigh. “I’m sure this girl couldn’t be behind it all, but the truth is it was a bit frightening. Eve caught her cheating on a test, and although she ended up giving her a minimal punishment, it seems that Adeline never forgave her. Two nights ago, we caught her lurking outside our home, although she denied it when we brought our suspicions to the principal.”