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

‘Oh,’ I say, frowning at the fingerprint ink on the wood. It seems odd, but I don’t know anything about how forensics work except what I’ve gleaned from CSI.

‘Actually, Ava,’ he says, ‘I didn’t come here to talk to you about the journalist.’

He scratches his head and looks at me through his lashes, a little rueful, a little boyish. ‘They told me you might be suing the Sheriff’s department.’

Oh. So this is why he came. Of course.

‘I understand,’ he says with a sigh. ‘And I’m not here in an official capacity, but I wanted to speak with you about it.’

I hadn’t given any more thought to what I said yesterday about suing. The threats were spur of the moment. I was channeling Robert. I had no idea if I even had a case but the very fact he’s here, wanting to discuss it in an unofficial capacity, suggests I probably do. Interesting.

Taking my silence as an invitation, he carries on. ‘I think you have a case,’ he says, surprising me. ‘Against the hospital,’ he finishes. ‘It was their security breach that allowed someone disguised as a doctor to enter the ICU.’

‘And a Sheriff’s deputy was posted outside June’s door,’ I remark, crossing my arms over my chest.

Nate chews his lip unhappily. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

‘Not as sorry as me,’ I answer sharply. ‘What do you want?’

He hears the irritation in my voice and exhales. ‘My job’s on the line. My whole career. They’ll look to throw someone under the bus. And that someone will be me.’

I close my eyes in disbelief. My daughter is brain dead according to the doctors and it’s partly, if not fully, Nate’s fault. And he’s come here begging me not to sue in case he loses his job. I always knew Nate was self-centered but this goes far beyond that and into pathological-narcissism territory.

‘I can’t afford to lose my job,’ he says beseechingly. ‘I’ve got kids, a mortgage. This kind of thing sticks to you. No one will employ me.’

I struggle with what to say as he pleads, my hands coiling into fists. Like I give a shit. Thank God, the phone rings, and I race for it, grateful for the interruption.

‘Hello?’ I say.

‘Ava?’

It’s Laurie.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Do you still need a ride to the hospital?’

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘I’ve got my car back.’

‘From Gene?’ she asks. ‘Did you see him? Did you ask him about the drugs?’

I whip around, covering the phone so Nate can’t hear, but he’s gone. Where did he go? I rush to the kitchen door and catch a flash of movement at the top of the stairs. ‘I need to go,’ I say to Laurie and hang up the phone.

At the top of the stairs I glance right. The door to June’s bedroom is open. I walk towards it, pulse skittering. Nate steps out right in front of me just as I reach it. He’s holding something in his hand. He smiles and holds it up to show me.

‘Forgot this,’ he says.

It’s his phone.

‘Must have left it on the desk.’

I glance over his shoulder at the desk and then at the hamster cage, my throat so dry I feel as if I’ve swallowed mouthfuls of sawdust. Nate steps past me out into the hallway, and I follow him, but not before craning my neck to see if the money is where I left it. From this angle it’s impossible to tell.

‘I better be going,’ Nate says to me, looking at his watch. ‘I’m sorry I came. I shouldn’t have. Please forget what I said.’

I follow him, not saying anything, and see him out, my hands shaking with adrenaline. As soon as he’s over the threshold I shut the door on him, drawing the bolt and the chain.

After taking a few deep breaths I push myself away and make for the stairs. Did he find the money? I drag myself up by the bannister and rush into June’s room. The money is still there, half-buried in sawdust.

I dig it out and count it. One hundred and ten thousand dollars. It’s all there.

Chapter 42

17 MONTHS AGO

The second time I see him I don’t even try to kid myself it’s just for coffee. I go for a bikini wax. We meet for a drink and I’m so nervous I down two glasses of Pinot in short order and am light-headed when we leave the bar.

Except this time there are no pretenses. When he tells me I’m too drunk to drive and we walk on to his car, I know what I’m walking towards. We end up back at his, a small apartment in a part of town I’ve never been to before, behind the Vons and the Chinese place, where the houses are all pre-war clapboard bungalows. I’m surprised he isn’t living somewhere fancier, but I suppose with the alimony he grumbles about he’s on a tight budget.

We enter the small living room and I only get a quick glance around, taking in the bare walls and minimal furniture, before Nate’s pulling me into his arms and kissing me. I hesitate for a brief moment then lean in to him, letting the feeling of being desired wash over me.

The initial strangeness gives way to an old familiarity. When he kissed me by my car it only lasted a few seconds, just long enough for me to come to my senses. This time we kiss for a minute or two but no matter how much I want to enjoy it, I can’t. The thrill of being desired is numbed. I’m too guilty. It’s as if I’m kissing cardboard. I feel nothing.

I don’t know if I want to go through with this. Nate’s maneuvering me to the sofa, his arms around my waist, his lips on my neck.

What am I doing? The shock of it hits me. Robert would be devastated. I can’t do this to him.

He’ll never know, the voice in my head