Page 102 of The Housemaid
I nod.
“You were hoping I would kill him.”
I nod again.
“So why didn’t you just kill him yourself?”
I wish there was an easy answer to that question. I was worried about getting caught. I was worried about going to jail. I was worried about what my daughter would do without me.
But what it really comes down to is that I justcouldn’t. I didn’t have it in me to take his life. And I did something terrible: I tried to trick Millie into killing him.
Which she did.
And now she could spend the rest of her life paying for it if I don’t do something to help her.
“Please get out while you can, Millie.” Tears prick at my eyes. “Go. Before I change my mind.”
She doesn’t have to be told again. She scrambles to her feet and hurries out of the room. Her footsteps disappear down the stairs. And then the front door slams shut, leaving me alone in the house—just me and Andy, who is staring up at the ceiling with his dead eyes. It’s over. It’s really over. And there’s only one thing left to do.
I pick up my phone and call the police.
SIXTY
NINA
If I leave this house, it will be in handcuffs. I can’t see any other way around it.
I remain on my leather sofa, clutching my knees, wondering if it will be the last time I sit here, while I wait for the detective to come back downstairs. My purse is sitting on the coffee table, and I grab it impulsively. I probably should just be sitting here quietly, like a good little murder suspect, but I can’t help it. I pull out my phone and bring up my list of recent calls. I select the first number on the list.
“Nina? What is going on?” Enzo’s voice is filled with concern. “What is happening over there?”
“The police are still here,” I choke out. “I…it doesn’t look good. For me. They think…”
I don’t want to say the words out loud. They think I killed Andy. And I didn’t kill him outright. He died of dehydration. But they think I am responsible.
I could end this. I could tell them about Millie. But I won’t.
“I’ll testify for you,” he says. “What he did to you. I saw you locked up there.”
He means it. He’ll do anything he can to help me. But how meaningful will testimony be from a man who will almost certainly be painted as my secret lover? And I can’t even deny it. I did sleep with Enzo.
“Is Cece okay?” I ask.
“She’s fine.”
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. “Is she watching TV?”
“TV? No, no, no. I teach her Italian. She is a natural.”
Despite everything, I laugh. Although it’s a weak sound. “Can I speak to her?”
There’s a pause and Cece comes on the other line. “Ciao, Mama!”
I swallow. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Bene. When are you coming to pick me up?”
“Soon,” I lie. “Just keep working on your Italian, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I take a breath. “I…I love you.”
