The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty

Author:Liane Moriarty [Moriarty, Liane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women, General
ISBN: 9780399159343
Google: jZIUcMyLFzAC
Amazon: 0399159347
Barnesnoble: 0399159347
Goodreads: 17465450
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2013-07-30T05:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FOUR

What was wrong with Cecilia this morning? She was certainly not herself, mused Rachel as she walked into St. Angela’s, feeling peculiar and self-conscious about her bouncy, flat-footed walk in her sneakers instead of her normal heels. She could feel moisture in her armpits and along her hairline, but actually, walking instead of driving to work had left her feeling quite invigorated. Before she’d left the house this morning, she’d momentarily considered calling a taxi because she felt so exhausted after the previous night. She’d been up for hours after Rodney Bellach had left, mentally replaying that video of Janie and Connor in her head over and over. Each time she remembered Connor’s face it became more malevolent in her memory. Rodney was just being cautious, not wanting her to get her hopes up. He was old now, and a bit soft around the edges. Once a snappy, smart young police officer saw the video, he (or she!) would instantly see the implications and take decisive action.

What would she do if she ran into Connor Whitby at the school today? Confront him? Ask the question? Make the accusation? The thought made her feel dizzy. Her emotions would soar like mountains: grief, fury, hatred.

She took a deep breath. No, no, she would not confront him. She wanted this done properly, and she didn’t want to forewarn him about the new evidence or say something that might cost her a guilty verdict. Imagine if he got off on a legal technicality because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She felt an unexpected sense of not quite happiness, but something. Hope? Satisfaction? Yes, it was satisfaction, because she was doing something for Janie. That was it. It had been so long since she’d been able to do something, anything, for her daughter: to go into her bedroom on a cold night and place an extra blanket over those bony shoulders (she was always cold), to make her one of her favorite cheese and pickle sandwiches (with heaps of butter—Rachel was always secretly trying to fatten her up), to carefully hand-wash her good clothes, to give her a ten-dollar bill for no reason at all. For years she’d felt this desire to do something again for Janie, to still be her mother, to look after her again in some small way, and now at last she could. I’m getting him, darling. Not much longer now.

Her mobile phone rang in her handbag and she fumbled for it, anxious to catch the caller before the silly thing stopped ringing and went to voice mail. It must be Rodney! Who else would call at this time of the morning? With news already? But surely it was too soon; it couldn’t possibly be him.

“Hello?”

She’d seen the name, just before she answered. Rob, not Rodney. The “Ro” had given her a moment of hope.

“Mum? Everything all right?”

She tried not to feel aggrieved with Rob for not being Rodney.

“Everything is fine, love. Just on my way in to work. What’s up?”

Rob launched into a long story as Rachel kept walking toward the school office.

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