In Her Eyes by Sarah Alderson (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📕

to protest but I cut him off. ‘It’s fine, Robert,’ I say, nodding at him. ‘Go be with June.’

Reluctantly, Robert gets to his feet. He kisses me on the forehead but I don’t miss the glance he throws Nate’s way and the suspicious look he gives me before he walks out.

There’s a silence after the door bangs shut.

‘How are you doing?’ Nate asks softly.

Tears spring to my eyes and I try to blink them away, though even blinking feels like an axe chopping through my skull. ‘I don’t know,’ I tell him, because it’s the truth. I can’t stop worrying about June, thinking about what happened. I look at Nate, jarred by the sight of him sitting by the bed. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. That you’re in charge of the investigation.’

‘I’m glad I am. I was worried about you—’ He breaks off before adding, ‘When I heard.’ His hand brushes the back of mine. I draw in a sharp breath at the unexpected yet familiar touch. ‘I swear to God I’m going to find the people who did this to you.’

My lip trembles and all I can do is nod. He smiles at me reassuringly then withdraws his hand to pull a small notebook and a pencil from his pocket. I feel the loss of his touch keenly. I’ve missed it. I study his face as he flips pages in his notebook. Things weren’t left well between us. Do I need to clear the air with him first? ‘It’s not going to be a problem, is it?’ I ask tentatively. ‘I mean, you and me.’

He glances up, a slight frown on his face. ‘Don’t worry, we’re good. Everything’s in the past.’

I nod and he lifts his pencil and holds it over the page.

‘Can you walk me through the events of last night?’ he asks.

My mind goes suddenly blank. Whether it’s the blinding terror of being forced to go back over it or because the head injury has knocked my memory, I couldn’t say.

‘Ava?’ Nate says gently. ‘There were two men, yes? That’s what your husband told us.’

I nod.

‘Did you see either of their faces? Can you give a description?’

I shake my head and force myself to concentrate. ‘No,’ I say, frustrated. ‘They were wearing masks.’

‘What kind of masks?’ he asks, pencil poised.

‘Like something from a horror movie. Um, a skull . . . one of them was a skull and the other was . . . a monster or something.’ I frown, trying to remember, but they’re fragmented images, nothing whole, like a puzzle missing pieces from the center. ‘I could . . . I could draw them maybe.’

‘OK,’ says Nate. ‘That would be great.’

‘What did they want?’ I ask. ‘Why us?’

‘They wanted what was in the safe, we think. They’re usually after jewelry, cash, anything they can turn over fast.’

‘But we hardly have any jewelry or cash in the house. The safe is just where we keep important documents.’

Nate nods thoughtfully and jots something down. ‘Look, let’s go back to the beginning. Tell me about your evening. Had you been out?’

I nod. ‘Yes. I was at The Oak – the bar in town – with my friend Laurie.’

‘And was this something you’d arranged in advance?’

‘Um, no, Robert and I had plans that night. He was going to take me out for dinner, but Laurie called me around five and asked if we could meet, so I cancelled with Robert.’

Nate looks up. ‘Was he annoyed about that?’

I shake my head. ‘You’d have to ask him. He was busy with work anyway.’ I look away, hearing the bitter note in my voice.

‘Why did Laurie want to meet with you?’

‘She wanted to talk to me about some stuff.’

‘Stuff?’ Nate asks.

‘Relationship stuff,’ I say, frowning at him. Why is what I talked to Laurie about important? It won’t help catch these men and I feel uncomfortable breaking a confidence. Then I realize with a shock that there is no privacy anymore. Those men invaded our home. Now the police are going to invade our lives.

‘And Laurie and Dave – they’ve been friends of yours a long time?’ Nate presses.

I nod. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘Just some background,’ Nate says, smiling at me. ‘How long have you known them?’

‘Well,’ I say, thinking. ‘I’ve known Laurie since I moved back here twenty years ago, and Dave I’ve known for around the same amount of time. He was a friend of Robert’s.’

‘Was?’ says Nate, latching on to the past tense like a terrier onto a bone.

‘Is,’ I correct myself. ‘They were in business together, a while back.’

‘Were?’

‘Yes, years ago, when Robert was just starting out developing apps. Dave has a degree in business, you see. But they made no money and so Dave went off and got a real job, you know, one that paid the bills and covered his health insurance.’

‘And then Robert, your husband, got very successful. Made a lot of money.’ There’s a pause. Nate knows this, of course. Everyone knows this. Robert’s been profiled in the Washington Post and Wired, as well as in all the local newspapers. He gave a TED talk a few months ago too.

‘You can’t think Dave has anything to do with this,’ I say. ‘That’s absurd.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Nate answers. ‘I’m just making the point that you and your husband are well off. That probably made you a target.’

Damn TED talk. Yes, we’re rich, I want to say to Nate, but there are many people richer than us. The bloody Rothschilds have a home here and God knows how many A-list actors. Why did they choose us? All at once the shock of it, the realization of what’s happened, that my daughter is lying in another room on life support, hits me with the force of a bullet. I let out a sobbing gasp, which reverberates through my head.

Nate takes my hand and squeezes it. ‘It’s OK,’ he says gently. ‘We’re going to find these people. I swear to you.’

I stare into his eyes, and he fixes me with a look of such certainty and