Chapter 13: Perfect Wife

I took the pill from the bottle at nine the next morning, with Roland watching from the kitchen doorway.

I put it on my tongue and lifted the glass of water.

Under the lip of the glass, my thumb pushed the pill back into my palm.

I swallowed water and nothing else.

"Good girl," Roland said.

It was the first time he had called me that, and I kept my face soft for him.

When he went to find his keys, I slid the pill into the lining of the gray cardigan, through a seam Erik had loosened for me.

Erik would count them and take them to the detective.

I had two weeks of this to get through.

Roland was kinder than he had ever been.

He cooked eggs and left them on a plate.

He took the ashtray out of the living room and stopped smoking in the house.

He asked how I had slept, and he listened to the answer.

It would have worked on me six months ago.

I had sat on that sofa for six months waiting for questions like that, and now every word he spoke felt completely rehearsed.

"I'm going to the office for a few hours," he said at noon. "Imogen will bring dinner."

"That's nice of her."

"She misses you."

I smiled.

He kissed my forehead, and I held still.

Erik's flatbed was parked at the end of the street, where it had been since eight.

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