The same night.
“Wait a minute,” Nessa said, her brain buzzing as if she were receiving an incoming transmission.
“I’m hanging up now,” Isabeau said.
“I think . . . hold on. Please just hold on for a minute.”
She looked up at the sky, listened to the insects droning, and it morphed into a cacophony of electronic static.
“Isabeau. The troll has bugged the house.”
“Oh, of course he has,” Isabeau said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Because you’re so important that—-”
“Just listen! We talked about both of those things on Saturday night. In the living room. Remember? Your affair and Marlon’s suicide attempt.”
Silence on the line.
“Isabeau?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said, her voice empty of the earlier venom. “But—-wait. Is there anything else that’s come out that might have only been mentioned in the house?”
“Let me think,” Nessa said, looking out over the hops vines. It came to her almost immediately. “Remember when you found the Facebook and Twitter accounts, and how on one of them, the troll said that Daltrey didn’t speak because of vaccines?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never mentioned that in my blog, that Daltrey hasn’t started speaking yet. I’ve never talked about it on the radio either, because . . .” Because she wasn’t her mother, using her children to get attention, to try to become famous, to get sympathy. “I’ve never mentioned those things.”
“When was that?” Isabeau said. “What day was it that the troll made that comment?”
“I’ll look it up.” But this wasn’t really the issue at hand. Not really. It was the fragile, delicate trust she’d given and received with Isabeau, and she had to rescue it. “But—-you really thought I’d get in touch with that wife and rat you out? Did you really believe that?”
“Well,” Isabeau said slowly. “You were the only one I’d told. I was so shocked to get that email after all this time, and I’d just talked to you about it a few days ago.”
“I want you to know that I would never betray you. You’re—-” Nessa gulped, but forced herself to go on. “You’re the best friend I’ve had since I was a teenager.”
There was a beat of silence as Nessa’s heart lay naked and quivering on the ground, unprotected, exposed. What would Isabeau do with it?
“Wow, Nessa,” Isabeau finally said. “That means a lot, coming from you. You’ve become one of my best friends too. I really mean that. I know it’s hard for you to let -people get close to you.”
“Thank you, Isabeau,” she said, her eyes tearing up.
“I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
After Nessa clicked off, she went back into the house. It felt different to her, as if her sanctuary, the house itself, was listening, digesting her for the nourishment of the troll. She tiptoed into the living room, and then realized how ridiculous she was being. No one would care how hard her feet hit the floor when she walked.
She looked around the room, trying to imagine where a person might hide a bug, and what would it look like? She’d seen them in movies but didn’t know how accurate her vision of such a thing would be.
She started with the bookcase, pulling each book off one by one, looking inside front and back, riffling the pages. She felt along the surfaces of the bookcase. Felt and looked underneath. Scrutinized each knickknack. Tipped over the floor lamp and looked at the bottom of it. Turned over the wing chair. Pulled out the cushions. She repeated this process with everything in the room, methodically looking over every surface.
And then she came to the coffee table, which she cleared off and looked beneath it. Stuck to the underside was a one--by--one--inch flat black square. She stared at it, her nerves on fire. If she touched it, would the troll know?
Nessa sat back on her heels and thought. Then she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo, which she attached to a text message that said, I found this on the underside of my coffee table. Is it a bug?
She waited, staring at her phone, watching the dancing dots that signaled Mac was texting her back.
Yes. Attach portable speakers to your phone and turn on some loud music. Then get a knife and remove it carefully. Bring it to our house, keeping the music with you and loud. You’ll lose the signal from the transmitter about ten yards from your house. We’ll worry about finding the transmitter later.