‘And you think whoever’s been sneaking around will give themselves away just like that?’ Merri asks, a hint of scepticism creeping in.
‘It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Think about it – whoever it is has been obsessed enough to take photos and post them online. If we suggest showing Jack and Sarah, Simon and Tilda the rest of the place, they might give something away – either by being too keen or acting weird. It’s not much, but it could give us a hint.’
Merri’s gaze is thoughtful. ‘Sounds a possibility, but what if nobody acts suspiciously?’
‘Well, that’s the other part of the plan,’ Dev says, coming back to sit beside her. ‘We’ll keep a close watch online. If more photos show up after the party, we’ll know someone took advantage of the invitation to do some more snooping. Worst-case scenario, we’ll have narrowed it down to just those four.’
Merri nods slowly and tension starts to leave her shoulders. ‘OK … I suppose it’s better than just sitting around, waiting for something else to happen.’
Dev squeezes her hand. ‘Exactly. And we’ll stick together during the party, watch people’s reactions. If anyone makes excuses to wander off alone or seems overly interested in rooms we’re not showing, we’ll take note of it. We can even make a point of casually mentioning security upgrades to see who looks nervous.’
She almost smiles at that. ‘You can think like a detective when you put your mind to it.’
Dev grins, nudging her gently. ‘Someone’s got to look out for us. We’re not about to let some jealous weirdo scare us off our new life.’
Merri exhales, the faintest hint of a smile curving her lips. ‘Fine. We’ll do it your way. But let’s watch how much we drink so we can keep our wits about us.’
‘Agreed,’ Dev replies, without hesitation. ‘We’ll just watch, listen, and take mental notes. Let them think we’re playing the good hosts.’
They share a look, a spark of determination passing between them. It’s the first time Merri has shown that she might be willing to fight back, and Dev feels a surge of hope.
As she turns her attention to the breakfast tray, Dev’s mind ticks over the details of their plan. It’s risky, but it’s a start – and it’s better than waiting for the next blow to fall.
One way or another, he’s going to find out who’s trying to break them.
39
Merri
The doorbell chimes at a minute past ten and my coffee sloshes in the cup, hot against my knuckles. Dev has opened the gates. ‘That’ll be them,’ he says, already on his feet. I stay planted on the sofa and force myself to take some deep breaths.
Two uniformed officers stand on the step, both women, both young – mid-twenties maybe. Their faces are open and curious beneath their hats. One has a clipboard, the other a kind of practised calm in her eyes that makes me nervous.
Dev greets them in that steady, polite tone of his, and I hover behind, wishing I could dart upstairs and let him deal with it all.
‘Thanks for coming out,’ he says.
They step into the hallway, wiping their dusty boots on the mat.
They introduce themselves, Hargreaves and Lane, both police constables. The one with the clipboard says, ‘We understand there’s been an issue with someone posting photos online.’
‘Yes, and we’ve had two incidences of vandalism too,’ Dev adds. ‘The glass doors were damaged and sprayed with red paint.’
The other officer nods. ‘We have a record of that, yes.’
Dev leads them to the living room and both officers pause just inside the doorway. Their eyes go straight to the view– Lake Windermere framed in the wide glass, a silver-blue shimmer beyond the trees that makes my blood run cold.
‘Wow,’ Hargreaves murmurs, looking around the room. ‘This is … something else.’
Lane nods, letting out a low whistle. ‘You don’t see many places like this on our rounds. You won the place, right?’
I smile. ‘Dev bought just one ticket for our wedding anniversary and it won the jackpot.’
They check the locks, the doors, the latches on the back windows. It’s all secure and they move on to talking about alarms, motion sensors and those clever little cameras you can get from Amazon. I keep nodding like I’m listening, but all I can hear is the blood in my ears.
It’s only when I see Lane glance at my hands that I follow her gaze and realize I’ve been twisting my fingers so hard they’re blotched red and white. I drop them to my sides.
‘Is there anyone either of you can think of who might hold a grudge?’ Hargreaves asks.
