The Woman in the Window(99)

“That lady just said that you stayed in your house all the time. And that was interesting to me. This weird woman who never went outside. This freak.”

I wrap my hand around the phone. I’ll swipe to the passcode screen and let my fingers walk out those four numbers. I’ve tapped them so many times. I can do it in the dark. I can do it with Ethan sitting next to me.

“I knew I had to get to know you.”

Now. I touch the button on the phone, press it. Cough to mask the click.

“My parents—” he begins, turning to the window. He stops.

My head turns with him. And I see what he sees: the glow of the phone, reflected in the glass.

He gasps. I gasp.

I snap my eyes to him. He stares at me.

Then he grins. “I’m kidding.” He points at the phone with the letter opener. “I already changed the code. Right before you woke up. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to leave a working phone right next to you.”

I can’t breathe.

“And I took out the batteries from the one in the library. In case you were wondering.”

My blood stops.

He gestures toward the door. “Anyway. I’ve been coming over at night for a couple of weeks, just walking around, watching you. I like it here. It’s quiet and dark.” He sounds thoughtful. “And it’s kind of interesting, the way you live. I feel like I’m doing research on you. Like a documentary. I even”—he smiles—“took your picture with your phone.” A grimace. “Was that too much? I feel like that was too much. Oh—but ask me how I unlocked your phone.”

I say nothing.

“Ask me.” Threatening.

“How did you unlock my phone?” I whisper.

He smiles broadly, like a child who knows he’s about to say something clever. “You told me how.”

I shake my head. “No.”

His eyes roll. “Well, okay—you didn’t tell me.” He leans toward me. “You told that ancient bitch in Montana.”

“Lizzie?”

He nods.

“You—were spying on us?”

He heaves a deep sigh. “God, you really are stupid. By the way, I don’t teach disabled kids how to swim. I’d rather kill myself. No, Anna: I am Lizzie.”

My mouth drops open.

“Or I was,” he says. “She’s been getting out of the house a lot lately. I think she’s all better. Thanks to her sons—what are their names?”

“Beau and William,” I answer, before I can stop myself.

He giggles again. “Holy shit. I can’t believe you remember that.” Laughing more now. “Beau. I swear I just made that up on the spot.”

I stare at him.

“That first day I came over. You had that freak website on your laptop. I created an account as soon as I got home. Got to know all sorts of lonely losers. DiscoMickey, or whatever.” He shakes his head. “It’s pathetic. But he put me in touch with you. I didn’t want to just write you out of the blue. Didn’t want you—you know. Wondering.

“Anyway. You told Lizzie how to code all her passwords. Switch out letters for numbers. That’s NASA shit right there.”

I try to swallow, can’t.

“Or use a birthday—that’s what you said. And you told me that your daughter was born on Valentine’s Day. Oh-two-one-four. That’s how I got into your phone and took that picture of you snoring. Then I changed the code, just to have fun with you.” He wags a finger at me.

“And I went downstairs and got into your desktop.” He leans toward me, speaks slowly. “Of course your password was Olivia’s name. For your desktop and for your email. And of course you just swapped out the letters. Just like you told Lizzie.” He shakes his head. “How fucking stupid are you?”

I say nothing.

He glares. “I asked you a question,” he says. “How fucking stupid—”

“Very,” I say.

“Very what?”

“Very stupid.”

“Who was?”

“I was.”

“Very fucking stupid.”

“Yes.”

He nods. Rain slaps the windows.

“So I made the Gmail account. On your own computer. You told Lizzie that your family was always like, ‘guess who’ when you talked, and that was just too good to pass up. Guess who, Anna?” He giggles. “Then I sent the picture to your email. I wish I’d seen your face.” He giggles again.

The room is airless. My breath is short.

“And I just had to put my mom’s name on the account. I bet that got you excited.” He smirks. “But you told Lizzie other stuff, too.” He leans forward again, the letter opener pointed at my chest. “You had an affair, you slut. And you killed your family.”

I can’t speak. I’ve got nothing left.

“And then you just got so freaked out about Katie. It was insane. You were insane. I mean, I kind of get it. I did it right in front of my dad, and he freaked out, too. Although I think he was relieved to have her gone, to be honest. I was. Like I said, she pissed me off.”

He shuffles up the bed, closer to me. “Move over.” I fold my legs, brace them against his thigh. “I should have checked the windows, but it all happened too fast. And anyway, it was so totally easy to deny it. Easier than lying. Easier than the truth.” He shakes his head. “I feel, like, bad for him. He just wanted to protect me.”