The New Husband(84)

It was Connor’s idea to borrow a time-lapse camera that belonged to the father of his best friend, Luke. Apparently, and I’d only just found this out, hunters use time-lapse cameras to help track their prey. Didn’t seem fair to me, but I got it—you have to know where the animals are to shoot them. In a way, we were like hunters, staked out in the woods across from Simon’s home by the lake. We rode our bikes there, Ben, too, and kept them out of sight behind some trees. There were neighbors on each side of Simon’s house, but the trees would keep us well hidden.

Connor went to work attaching the camera’s straps to a tree in front of Simon’s place. He checked the line of sight to make sure he could get a good shot. The camera was boxy and camouflaged like hunting gear. It was easy to miss, even close up. From our hiding spot, we couldn’t see the lake behind the house, but we could feel the cold breeze blowing off the water. The clouds were thick and heavy, and I hoped the rain would hold off until evening, as predicted.

I had on a sweater and wool hat but forgot my gloves, leaving my fingers frozen as icicles. Ben’s glasses kept fogging up, and he had to clean them frequently on his jacket sleeve. We were down on the ground, where it was even colder, pulling dead leaves around our bodies like animals making a nest. Connor, who was more into skiing than I was, didn’t seem bothered by the chilly temps. He pushed and pulled at the camera, making sure it was secured tightly in case the wind picked up.

When he finished, Connor came over to where Ben and I were half buried, looking down at us like we were a couple of crazies.

“What are you two doing on the ground?” he asked.

“We’re hiding in case someone shows up,” I whispered.

“Stop whispering,” Connor said in a loud voice, sounding annoyed. “Nobody is around here. You’re being a little freak.”

I got up, leaves raining down from my body as I stood. Ben did the same.

“Is the camera all set?” I asked.

“All set,” he said. He took out his phone and showed us the app that controlled the camera’s settings. “I set the time-lapse frequency to fifteen minutes, and the duration is set to all day. The photos automatically get deleted every few hours.”

“What happens at night?” asked Ben.

“Shuts down to save battery,” Connor said. “It’ll power on by itself at sunrise.”

“Isn’t Luke’s dad going to wonder what happened to it?”

Connor had said something about the camera costing over two hundred dollars, so I figured he’d notice it was gone.

“Nah, he bought a new one. This has been in a box for like, a year. No problem there.” Connor’s smile faded as a serious look came to his face. “But you and you,” he said, pointing at me and Ben, “need to stop with this nonsense about Simon once I get proof that nothing is going on here.”

I nodded because that was the deal I’d struck with him. I was okay with it, too. Even if this didn’t work out, I still had my other secret hope about how we’d get rid of Simon—the one about our dad.

I wondered if Dad was camped out in the woods of Vermont like we were camped out now. I had messaged him on Talkie every day with no reply, and tried the number he had called me from countless times, but never got an answer. As much as I wanted to know where he was, why he left, I had to know what Mom did to him and what he planned to do about it.

Then I thought about our last call suddenly going dead. I tried not to think the unimaginable—that he was dead in a ditch somewhere, that the people chasing after him had found him, those kinds of thoughts. But I had this knowing, a deep-in-my-bones kind of knowing, that he was fine, that he was going to come back and everything would be like it had been. He’d get over his anger at Mom, whatever that was all about; Mom would realize she loved Dad, not Simon; and we’d be a family again. I believed this even if our spying expedition turned out to be a big waste of time.

With no warning, and seemingly for no reason at all, Connor gasped and his eyes grew wide with fright, as if something terrible was about to happen. He looked every which way, his body crouched, tense, head darting, searching for the safest route to run.

“It’s a drug dealer,” he whispered in a mocking way. “No, no, it’s a prostitute.”

Connor straightened and curled his lip at me in disgust. “Really, you two clowns have been streaming too much crap on the internet.”

I shouldn’t have told Connor what we thought we might find, but he’d demanded some kind of explanation for the stakeout, and Ben’s theory about prostitution or drug dealing was the best one we had.

Connor was done. He was going for his bike. It was a long ride back home, a lot of it uphill. Mom was at work, thinking I was at Ben’s house, and Simon was out of the house, we didn’t know where, when we left, but we all had to get home soon or questions might get asked.

“Listen,” Connor said, taking a serious tone. “You’ve got to get over this Simon business. I mean it, Maggie. After we prove this was a waste of time, no more. You’ve got to accept the fact that Dad is dead and Simon is in our life now.”

My heart shattered because Connor should know—no, he had to know; he deserved the truth as much as I did. It wasn’t fair of me to keep the secret from him. No matter what our father thought, I could trust Connor. I’d explain that Dad would be in danger if the police found out he was alive. All I had to do was show him the Talkie messages we’d been exchanging to feel a million pounds lighter. The harsh wind felt like a slap across my face, like it was my father’s hand punishing me for breaking my vow.