Page 32 of The Amendment

“Well, we’re going to have to figure out something, aren’t we?” he pressed.

“Where have you been keeping this stuff before now?”

“Here and there,” he said with a shrug. “So you can see why this arrangement’s a lot better for me.”

“Well, it’s not an arrangement. You said you needed to keep one thing in the room for a while. I’ve kept up my end of the bargain and then some. You’ll have to find somewhere else to keep this one. I’m sorry.” My hands were up in the air as I figuratively washed them of the problem. “You can’t keep it here.” If he argued, I might have to kill him. Either that, or he’d kill me. But I desperately didn’t want either of those scenarios to happen. Not while my kids were home. I’d have to lure him into the room and do it there. I’d have to hope they didn’t wonder about my absence too strongly.

He drew in a long breath and the seconds seemed to drag on as I waited to hear his response.

Finally, he said, “Alright, fine. I’ll figure something else out.”

As he started to walk away, obviously disappointed, Istepped forward, stopping him. “What about the rest of it? How much longer do you plan to keep it there?”

“I’ve told you I don’t know exactly. I’m figuring things out.” He patted my shoulder. “Just enjoy your garden party. I’ll take care of the rest.” I saw him clock something over my shoulder, his whole demeanor filling with warmth again. When I followed his line of vision, I saw Ainsley’s silhouette in the porch light. She’d been watching us. From where she was, I wondered if she could hear us. Surely not.

He tipped his ball cap toward me, then waved at her. “Tell the missus good night from me, would you?”

I didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to notice, giving my shoulder a squeeze and making his way back to the truck.

The headlights washed over me as he backed up and turned around, disappearing down the long, curving drive.

The tension disappeared slowly when I’d caught the last glimpse of his taillights. When I turned around, Ainsley had gone back inside.

Still, I knew it was far from over.

These two—my wife and my friend—had enough dirt on me to send me away for the rest of my life. They were dangerous, each in their own way.

Now I just needed to decide whom I was more afraid of.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AINSLEY

Peter had hardly listened to a word I’d said at dinner about Maisy suddenly quitting dance class. It wasn’t like her to drop her commitments so casually, but he didn’t seem to notice or care about the sudden change in her personality.

When he walked outside, I realized why. Though I didn’t recognize the man he was meeting, I recognized the look in my husband’s eyes: panic.

Ice-cold fear.

I watched them interacting, knowing the weapons were hidden in my husband’s secret room, and that the children were just inside. I couldn’t do anything but watch and wait.

Wonder what was going to happen.

And then, somewhat anticlimactically, the man left.

When Peter trudged toward the house, I stepped inside, waiting for him to enter.

“Who was that man?” I asked, keeping my voice low the second he’d entered the house.

“I told you, a guy from work.”

“You didn’t reallytellme anything, though. That’s the point. Who is he? I’ve never seen him before. Why are you being so secretive? Are you up to something?”

He walked past me, moving toward the kitchen where our wineglasses sat from dinner. As he scooped his up, taking a drink and avoiding my eyes, I pressed on. “Peter, what is going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. I was thirsty. Please don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

His cheeks were red, both from the wine and the lies, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I waited, which seemed to make him even more uncomfortable than if I’d started an argument.

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