Fool Me Once(19)

“I mean,” Maya said, keeping her tone even, “was there anybody inside this house yesterday besides you and Lily?”

“No, Mrs. Burkett.” The fixed expression was back. “Who do you mean?”

“I mean, anyone. Did Hector come inside, for example?”

“No, Mrs. Burkett.”

“So no one was here?”

“No one.”

Maya glanced toward the computer, then back at Isabella. “Did you leave at all?”

“Leave the house?”

“Yes.”

“Lily and I went to the playground. We do that every day.”

“Did you leave the house any other time?”

Isabella looked up as though trying to remember. “No, Mrs. Burkett.”

“And did you leave the house at all by yourself?”

“Without Lily?!” She said it with a sharp intake, as though this were the most offensive thing she could imagine. “No, Mrs. Burkett, of course not.”

“Did you leave her alone at all?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a simple question, Isabella.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Isabella said. “Why are you asking me these questions? You don’t like the job I’m doing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I never leave Lily alone. Never. Maybe when she takes a nap upstairs, I come downstairs and clean up a little—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Isabella studied Maya’s face now. “Then what do you mean?”

There was no reason to delay this any longer. “I want to show you something.”

The laptop was on the kitchen island. Maya reached for it as Isabella moved in closer. “I keep a camera in the family room,” she began.

Isabella looked puzzled.

“A friend gave it to me,” Maya said in a way of explanation, though really, did she need to explain herself? “It records what goes on when I’m not here.”

“A camera?”

“Yes.”

“But I never saw a camera, Mrs. Burkett.”

“You’re not supposed to. It’s hidden.”

Isabella’s gaze slid back toward the family room.

“A nanny cam,” Maya continued. “You know that new picture frame we have on the shelf?”

She watched Isabella’s eyes land on the bookshelf. “Yes, Mrs. Burkett.”

“That’s a camera.”

Isabella looked back at her. “So you were spying on me?”

“I was monitoring my child,” Maya said.

“But you didn’t let me know.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s no reason to get defensive.”

“No?” Isabella’s tone spiked up. “You didn’t trust me.”

“Would you?”

“What?”

“It wasn’t a question of you, Isabella. Lily is my child. I am responsible for her well-being.”

“And you think spying on me is best for her?”

Maya maximized the screen setting and cued up the video. “Before this morning, I figured that it couldn’t hurt.”

“And now?”

Maya flipped the screen around so Isabella could see it. “Watch.”

Maya didn’t bother to watch the video again. She had seen it enough times for now. Instead, she focused on Isabella’s face and looked for signs of stress or deception.

“What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Maya glanced at the screen. The fake Joe had just exited the screen after blocking the camera. “Just watch.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes. Maya tried to keep her breath even. They say you never know how someone will react when the grenade is thrown. That was always the hypothetical: You are standing with your comrades in arms and a grenade is thrown at your feet. Who flees? Who ducks? Who jumps on the grenade and sacrifices themselves? You can try to predict, but until the grenade is actually thrown, you don’t have a clue.

Maya had proven herself to her fellow soldiers repeatedly. They knew that under the pressure of combat, she could be cool, calm, collected. She was a leader who had displayed those qualities time and time again.

The odd thing was, this leadership and coolheadedness had not transferred to her real life. Eileen had told her about her little son, Kyle, who was so organized and tidy at his Montessori preschool—and such a mess at home. Something similar happened with Maya.

So as she stood over Isabella, as “Joe” entered the screen and put Lily on his lap, as Isabella’s facial expression didn’t change, Maya could feel something inside of her give way.

“Well?” Maya said.

Isabella looked at her. “Well, what?”

Something behind Maya’s eyes snapped. “What do you mean, well, what?”

Isabella cringed.

“How do you explain that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop playing games with me, Isabella.”

Isabella took a step back. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Did you watch the video?”