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

‘I’m fine. Just tidying up a few things.’ I swipe at my eyes and my gaze lands on June’s basketball trophies on the shelf by her desk. ‘She used to play basketball,’ I stammer.

Nate obligingly turns to look at the trophies and I take advantage to grab the lid of the hamster cage and slam it down on top of the money, hiding it partially from view.

‘What happened to the hamster?’

I swing back around, heart in my throat. Nate’s staring at the cage.

‘He died.’

‘Oh.’

‘June will never forgive me,’ I say, hurrying past him for the door. I need to get him out of here. ‘I need to clean all this stuff out. It’s filthy. Probably a breeding ground for God knows what.’ I’m rattling away, trying to fill the space, hoping to distract him.

‘You shouldn’t be doing that. Why don’t you let me?’ He moves for the cage.

I shake my head. ‘No, no, don’t worry. It’s really fine.’

I stop by the door. Nate’s still in the room, looking around. If he looks closer he’ll see the money. I do the only thing that comes to mind – I step towards him and fall against him, sobbing loudly, clinging to him. It sounds fake to my ears, put on – especially given only yesterday I was screaming at him to leave me alone.

Nate tenses so I start crying louder, my fingers digging into his shoulders and slowly I feel his arms come around my waist. His hands move up my back and reach my neck. I freeze. But then his fingers are in my hair, stroking. ‘It’s OK,’ he murmurs in my ear.

I inch to the left, managing to make Nate twist around so his back is to the cage. Nate dips his head. I can feel his breath hot against my neck and it sends a shiver down my spine. His arms tighten around my waist and it strikes me how strong he is, how incapable I would be of fighting him off, but then, as though he’s reading my mind, Nate pulls away and takes a step backward.

‘Let’s go downstairs,’ I say, striding to the door.

Nate follows slowly, scanning June’s room from ceiling to floor before he leaves, his gaze sweeping across the bloodstain on the carpet. Finally, when my nerves are at breaking point, he turns and follows me out into the hall.

I close the door behind us.

‘Did you ever remember any more?’ Nate asks as we head down the stairs. ‘About what happened in there?’

I shake my head. ‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s still fuzzy.’

But as I turn around, something jolts loose like a dislocated rib popping back into place – a dizzying sense of déjà vu that almost sends me toppling down the stairs. I get a flash of something. It’s not a complete image – just a partial, like someone has their finger over the lens of the camera, and it’s only a still frame.

But I see June kneeling on the floor in front of the man.

I only saw it from one angle; she was partly blocked by the man standing in front of her. I made the wrong assumption. I saw what I thought was a man in a mask about to sexually assault my daughter. But that’s not what was happening at all. She was kneeling down beside George’s cage.

‘What?’ Nate grips my elbow and when I blink, his face swims sharply into focus and I almost fall; only his hold on me keeps me upright. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks and there’s no disguising the concern on his face.

‘Yeah, I just . . . I . . . I’m just a little faint, that’s all.’

He frowns at me, his hand still gripping my elbow, and I force a smile. ‘I’m fine,’ I say.

I make my way down the stairs, holding tight to the bannister, Nate’s hand gripping my arm.

Chapter 41

As we walk down the stairs I can’t shake the image of June from my head. Was she already opening the hamster cage when I walked into the room? It was only a split second – lasting only as long as a heartbeat, or the time it takes for a trigger to be pulled and a bullet to travel ten feet.

She took the gunman upstairs on purpose, because she was planning to give him the money. Did she guess that’s what they had come for? Did she know who they were? Or was she just trying to give them something – money – to make them go away? But if she told them about the money, or they knew that Gene had money in the house and were targeting us because of that, then they likely suspect that it is still here. They may even know it’s in June’s room.

So why haven’t they been back to look for it?

I stumble and Nate’s grip on my arm tightens, as though he’s afraid I’m about to run. Could it be him?

No! It wasn’t him. He’s too tall. My paranoia is getting the better of me. My mind is spewing out what-ifs like a pinwheel throwing out sparks. I’ll start blaming the gardener next. If only I could figure out who knew about the money, I’d have a list of suspects.

In the kitchen Nate finally lets go of my arm. ‘Can I get you anything before I go? Water? Something to eat?’ he asks, looking at me with such solicitousness that I almost laugh out loud at my crazy conjecture. My exhaustion is making me see a suspect in every face I encounter.

I shake my head and my gaze lands on the dark ink stain I tried to scrub out of the wooden island and that, like Lady Macbeth’s damned spot, isn’t going anywhere.

I turn back to Nate. ‘Are the DNA results back?’ I suddenly ask, remembering he was waiting on them.

‘They came in last night,’ he answers.

I wait, holding my breath.

‘They weren’t able to make any matches,’ he says, grimacing. ‘There was only one trace found but the sample was too small