Never Lie (49)

“Really?”

Ethan joins me and taps on the floor with his foot. There’s no mistaking the sound.

“There’s something down here,” I say, staring at the wooden planks.

“I think you’re right.”

Ethan grabs the sofa again and shifts it to the other side of the room. Now that it’s out of the way, I can see the full rectangular outline on the floor. It’s some sort of large compartment under the floor.

What could be down there? More tapes? I suppose that’s a possibility, but I have a feeling that’s not what’s down there. I also have a feeling that we are the first people to discover this hidden compartment since Dr. Hale lived here.

“What do you think?” Ethan grins at me. “Hidden treasure?”

“I don’t know…”

“Well,” he says. “Let’s open it up and see.”

He bends down to grab the handle, but before he can, I seize his arm. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should tell the police and let them check it out.”

“Are you kidding me? You really don’t want to look? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

I grimace. “I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know if it’s a crime scene or something. We don’t want to disturb it. Like, what if there are fingerprints we need to preserve?”

“Nah. It’s probably just where the doctor stashed her jewelry or something.” He winks at me. “You could have your pick of it.”

Does he honestly think I would ever touch her jewelry? I wouldn’t. I’m sorry I took her sweater even though I was cold. It’s burning my skin.

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “Let’s just open it.”

“No, please—”

But Ethan isn’t listening to me. He reaches down, grabs the handle, and hauls open the lid to the hidden compartment.

And when I see what’s inside, my heart drops.





Chapter 36


ADRIENNE



Before




When Luke returns with the keys, I’m already waiting at the front door. I fling it open before he even has a chance to knock. He blinks in surprise, his hand frozen in the air.

“Hello,” I say.

For the first time, I realize he has not shaved today. He’s got that stubble on his chin that he always used to have when he worked at the clinic. Once we started dating, he began shaving daily, because he knows I prefer it.

“Hey.” He shoves his hand into his pocket and fishes out the keys. He drops them in my hand like they’re made of something dirty. “Here.”

“Thank you again.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You, uh…” I scratch my neck. “You got everything off the computer?”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” There’s an edge to his voice that’s unfamiliar. He’s always so kind and even-tempered, it’s hard to hear him talk to me this way. “But like I told you, I can’t be sure there aren’t other copies somewhere else in his house.”

“Did you look around?”

“No.” He glares at me. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” I cough. “And, um, you didn’t… watch the video, right?”

“No, I watched it.”

My face burns. “Luke, you promised you wouldn’t!”

“Well, it’s too late. I watched it.” He frowns. “I had to find out what was so bad that you were willing to go to so much trouble to get rid of it.”

I hang my head. “I didn’t want you to see.”

“What the hell were you doing?” His usually mild brown eyes are flashing. “You slashed some guy’s tires? Why would you do that?”

“I was having a bad day.” I avert my eyes, unable to look at him. It doesn’t matter anymore what I say. I’ve lost him. “Hasn’t that ever happened to you? You had a bad day and did something stupid?”

“I never slashed anyone’s tires.”

“Well, maybe you’re better than me then.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at his sneakers. Finally, he says, “What did the guy in the Jetta do to you, anyway?”

“He stole my parking spot. And I was in a rush to get to the clinic on time.”

His lips part and he just stares at me for a second. “Are you kidding me?”

I shake my head slowly. “I had a patient scheduled. I didn’t want to be late.”

It all sounds ridiculously inadequate when I say it out loud.

“Jesus.” He cracks his knuckles. “You are really something. All that over a stolen parking spot. You’re unbelievable.”

I’m scared to say anything else. Usually, I’m extremely skilled at knowing what to say to make somebody else feel better. It’s my job, after all. But it’s never meant quite this much. I try to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t help myself. I finally blurt out, “Do you hate me now?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Hate you?”

“Well…” I squeeze my sweaty hands together. “You seem like you’re angry with me. And you’re barely looking at me.”