Page 72 of The Teacher
Nathaniel gets down on his knees beside her body and places a hand on her chest to check if she’s breathing. I expected him to look sad or panicked orsomething, but there is no expression whatsoever on his face. “I don’t feel her chest moving,” he says.
I’m not surprised, but my stomach sinks nonetheless. If she were just hurt, we could take her to the hospital. She might be okay. But if she’s not breathing…
“Where’s her phone?” he asks.
I’ve been clutching it the entire time. I hold it out to him, the screen still unlocked. After I got into the phone, I disabled the lock screen.
Nathaniel snatches the phone out of my hand, and right away, he starts scrolling. His eyes are looking intently down at the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“She said she had photos.” His fingers pause, and a tiny smile lights up his face. He jabs at the screen. “But not anymore.”
Apparently, Nathaniel has now gotten rid of any incriminating photos of us. But having an affair with my teacher pales in comparison to my much greater crime of killing my other teacher. I look down at Mrs. Bennett, the panic mounting in my chest.
“What are we going to do?” I murmur.
“This is going to be okay,” he says firmly. And when he says it, I start to think maybe it’s true. “But we’ve got to cover our trail.”
“Cover our trail?”
His brown eyes are still pinned on his wife’s body. “I’ll buy a train ticket to New York using her phone. Her family lives in New Jersey, and I’ll say she planned to visit them. We’ll drive her car to the commuter rail station, and we’ll leave it there.”
“But…” I can’t look at Mrs. Bennett. It’s too awful. “What abouther?”
“We bury her in a place no one will find her.”
There’s a coldness in his voice that surprises me. This is his wife, for God’s sake. At one point, he loved her enough to marry her. And now he’s talking about burying her body.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammer.
He looks up at me sharply. “Why not?”
“Because…it’s… It’s not right…”
“Okay, fine.” He scratches at his already messy hair. “Let’s call the police and tell them what you did and why. Then I’ll see you again in twenty-five years to life.”
He’s right. The truth is more damning than anything else.
Nathaniel doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I need you to go upstairs,” he says. “In the linen closet, you’ll find some fresh sheets. Grab one of them to wrap her up in.”
I don’t want to do it. I don’t want any part of this. But he’s doing this to help me. To keep me out of prison, so that he and I can be together like we have always wanted.
I’ll do anything he says.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
EVE
I wakeup feeling utterly confused.
First of all, I am not in my bed like I usually am when I wake up. I am lying splayed out on a hard surface that I soon recognize to be the floor of my kitchen.
The next thing I become aware of is a throbbing pain on the right side of my head. It feels like somebody clocked me in the head with a brick. Repeatedly. I reach for my scalp, and my hair feels wet and sticky. When I pull my fingers away, I see blood.
Finally, I become aware of the presence of my husband. I am lying on the floor, and he is standing over me. He has my phone in his right hand, and he’s scrolling through the screen.
What’s he doing? Why am I lying on the floor?
