Page 110 of Our Little Secret
And then:
Your daughter is as beautiful as you are.
Be careful.
It would be a shame if you were to lose her.
Could Gideon have been watching as she undressed or showered or listened in on private conversations about her hopes, her dreams—
Bile rose in her throat.
Oh. Dear. God.
Gideon?
Or someone else?
More than one sicko?
Her throat went dry at the thought.
Don’t go there! Not now!
First things first, she told herself as she tamped down her fear and found the spot where the wire should have run through the attic floor. Carefully, her skin itchy where it rubbed up against the insulation, she dug, silently cursing herself for not wearing gloves. Nothing. She reached deeper, to the attic floor. The tips of her fingers scraped against plywood.
It had to be here!
It had to.
Craning her neck to see into the small hole she’d dug in the insulation between the joists, she searched the area. She shone the light into the hole.
Nothing.
But it had to be!
She twisted the flashlight a bit and the beam caught a glimmer of something: a taut strand strung below the plank that ran the length of the narrow wooden pathway through the attic. It led to the island of plywood in the center of the garret where old magazines, records, and discarded, long-forgotten boxes were piled.
Anticipation mixed with dread.
She hoisted herself up to a crouching position and started to inch forward.
As long as she walked on the planks or balanced on the floor joists, she would be okay. In between, should she trip, she would fall through the sheet rock of the ceiling below.
Not good, she told herself and focused the flashlight’s beam on the wire. Its shimmering edge peeked over the joists. Whoever had strung it hadn’t bothered to drill through the beams.
Bent down and teetering, telling herself she was a certified idiot, she made her way over the planks to the plywood platform where she tested the makeshift flooring with her weight, then lowered herself to a kneeling position.
She located the end of the wire. Sure enough, she found what she assumed was a dime-sized camera attached to it. The insulation had been cleared from a spot at the edge of the platform, and when she lifted the camera she discovered a small hole right above what she knew was the overhead light of her bedroom.
“Terrific.” Despite being alone in the dark attic, she felt herself flush with a mixture of embarrassment and outrage. “Son of a—”
Oh shit!
She noticed that just on the other side of the camera the wire split in several directions. Slowly, painstakingly, she followed each thread, her blood pounding in her ears as she located a tiny camera mounted at the edge of the platform. When she lifted it she found it had been placed in the ceiling over Marilee’s bed. Just as she’d speculated and dreaded.
“You bastard,” she whispered. “You lowlife, fucking bastard.” She tore the camera from its hiding spot, ripping the wires, hating the man who had done this and hating herself for allowing him to get close.
Rage pulsing, she crawled along the planks and discovered yet another tiny camera nestled in the insulation over the staircase.You sick prick!She tore it from its wires. Then she found another located over the guest room, again hidden in the overhead light fixture. Well, no more! She yanked that camera as well, then, gritting her teeth in frustration, ripped out all the effing spy equipment.
