“I was going to call and tell you I was coming home. I just started feeling sick and wanted my own bed.” My mind is spinning.
He cocks his head to the side and arches one brow. He pulls out his phone and turns the screen toward me. “Then who is shopping in St. Francisville using your credit card and driving your car while in possession of your phone?”
It’s Aubrey in the wig. She’s standing in front of a register, holding a framed print of pressed fern leaves. The image is mostly from behind but you get a bit of profile in the picture. Someone who didn’t know me so well might believe it was me, but it would be obvious to Ben that it’s not. I’m not telling him anything. He would lose his shit if he knew it was Aubrey.
“Honestly, I was a little stumped when I got this picture. If your phone and car were in St. Francisville, where the hell were you? Then I checked the location of your other devices,” he says, nodding to the iPad clutched under my arm. “Imagine my surprise when that little blue dot popped up here.”
I don’t say anything. Just stand there, frozen. I didn’t think he could track that.
I’m dumb. So, so dumb.
Ben bends down and picks up the cameras I dropped when I fell off the chair. “What are these?”
I start shaking. Ben has never been physically abusive but I’m terrified about what he’s going to do to me when he finds out what I’ve gotten on record today.
His expression changes when he realizes what they are. “How many more are in the house right now?”
“A…a couple more.”
His brow creases. “Show me each and every one.”
Ben follows closely behind me while I move to the front door. I don’t dare look at him when I pull the small camera out of the potted plant on the front porch, giving me a clear view of the driveway.
“What the fuck, Camille!”
I turn around and hold the camera out to him. He snatches it out of my palm. “Did these upload to the cloud?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. Just an internal memory card.”
He moves to the kitchen and grabs one of those cooler bags he uses for drinks when he plays golf, shoving all three cameras inside. “Where are the rest?”
It’s deathly quiet as we go from room to room collecting cameras. I don’t know why I’m giving myself up like this other than the fear of what would happen if he found them on his own.
“This it?” He shakes the now full bag in front of me, making the cameras rattle as they bounce off one another.
He throws the bag on the counter and points to the stool where Margaret was sitting just half an hour ago. “I’m not sitting there.” I move to the small kitchen table and drop down in the nearest chair.
He opens the back of each camera and pulls out the memory cards. They’re tiny, smaller than my thumbnail, and I watch as he moves to the kitchen sink and turns on the faucet, throwing the cards in so they’ll wash down the drain. Then he turns on the garbage disposal for good measure. The sound of grinding metal fills the room.
He finally joins me, sitting in the chair next to me. He looks calm, but it’s deceiving. Under that facade, he’s boiling right now. “You’ve gone to great effort to make sure I wasn’t aware you were in the house. That I wouldn’t know you were filming me. Why?”
I’m not going to let him turn this on me. I may be terrified but I’m also pissed, so I dig into that feeling. Let that emotion rise to the surface. “You’ve gone to great effort to make sure I thought you were still in New Orleans. Why?”
He leans closer, leaving only a few inches between us. His mouth twists into a smile. “I like seeing you mad at me right now. Better than the pouty brat you’ve been lately.”
What the hell? Does he think this is some game?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gets up and leans over me. His hands are on the arms of my chair, caging me in. “Sure you do. You’ve been extremely difficult to live with the last few months. Moody. Lashing out at me then giving me the silent treatment. So tell me. What could you possibly have to be pissed off about? Say what you want to say. I know it’s been killing you.”
I shove his chest, causing him to rock back slightly, but he stays in place. He’s goading me, putting me on the defensive, pushing all my buttons. He wants to know what I know. What I heard. What I learned today and what I came in knowing. And for some reason I can’t stop myself from reacting the exact way he wants me to. “Was I included in the deal you made with Dad to cover for Silas? In exchange for an alibi, were you guaranteed a wife?”
His face drops and he takes a step back. “You have no idea what I’ve done for your family. For your brother. I’ve done everything they’ve wanted me to for years.” He holds his hands out wide. “I’ve made sure you’ve had a charmed life and you repay me by creeping around the house, spying on me.”
I stand up from the chair, sending it sliding backward until it hits thewall. “It seems more like my father is the one who has made sureyou’veled a charmed life. It’s clear you would never have been this successful without his help.”
We stare at each other. He presses his lips together as if he’s trying to hold his words in. Finally, he asks, “Why are you here, spying on me? You’ve been blissfully unaware for fucking years. Happy to take what is given to you and keep your head buried in the sand. So what changed?”
