Every Last Secret - A.R. Torre Page 0,91

the door of it, and I imagined her looking through the scant items, searching desperately for the envelope that the cops had never found. I reached into the pocket of my robe and closed my fingers around the envelope I had taken from their safe. The one marked Neena’s Will and Testament. I had almost skipped right over it in my exploration of the contents. After all, how interesting could a will be?

But, as it turned out, Neena’s was a real showstopper.

I pictured her panic, the frantic flip through papers once, twice, a third time. She really should have used a safe-deposit box. This entire setup had been a cakewalk. The morning of Matt’s fall, I’d had hours of alone time to move through their home and sift through her drawers, her closet, her life. While William and Neena had waited for Matt at the hospital, I’d tested my old key in the home’s back door and verified it still worked. I’d checked the empty cubbyhole in the floor and envisioned how it could be used. I’d found the photo I’d taken of the safe’s sticky note and tried the combination, smiling when it still opened the vault. I’d gone through the contents and read everything, including her will.

I remember my mouth falling open, my eyes darting around the empty bedroom, looking for someone to share the item with. I remember reading it a second time, then slowly folding it back into thirds and sliding it back into the envelope. I remember putting her house back in order and throwing away the trash from the railing, then returning to my home and lying down on the couch, the envelope warm in the back pocket of my pants.

I’d lain there and thought through everything. Remembered the conversation with William and Deputy Dan about the broken railing. The murder-attempt possibility that we had just scoffed over. I moved around puzzle pieces in my mind until they fit into place. Red flags to plant. Red herrings to deceive. The careful destruction of a life, one interaction at a time.

I made the plan and then sat on it for a long time. A time in which I watched her creep in. A time in which I monitored my husband’s call activity and read his emails and text messages and placed a hidden camera in the one place in Winthorpe Tech where something might happen—the boardroom. I behaved until the afternoon that I watched the video of her sitting on the heavy mahogany table, her knees open, her hands clutching at William’s shirt. Her, bent over, face contorted in pleasure.

I’d paused the video just after the act, when she was reaching for her underwear and he was buckling his pants. She was looking down and smiling. Smiling. I’d stumbled back from the video screen, my hands trembling, my stomach twisting, and barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited. I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower jets, stripping down and drowning out my sobs under the spray.

I broke.

Broken women cannot be held accountable for their actions.

I needed my husband back. Needed to punish her. So I put my plan into action, and I did.

CHAPTER 50

CAT

William drove, the Maserati humming along the road. I pulled the neck of my jacket loose and turned up the air conditioner, opening my vents.

“I spoke to Chief McIntyre this morning,” he announced, his eyes on the road. “She’ll be present at your meeting.”

I watched as we passed through the neighborhood’s security gates, William’s hand lifting to wave at the uniformed officers who framed the opening. After Matt’s intruder, my confidence in them had waned, and I avoided eye contact with them. We wound through the curves of Atherton, heading to the police station, and I rested my head on the window, watching as the homes grew smaller and closer together as we neared the center of town.

“Neena called me this morning.” William delivered the news somberly, and I lifted my head and turned to face him, feigning surprise. For months, I’d been monitoring his call activity through our carrier and had synced my laptop with his iCloud account, so all his text messages hit there as well.

“Is that the first time she’s called since everything happened?” I waited to see if he’d pass the test. If he lied, what would I do? What would be the use of all this if he continued down a path of deceit?

“No.” He sighed. “She called me a few