Page 33 of The Husband's Secret
Still, a guy as nice and as good-looking as Ben Clark likely had a girlfriend. She was thirty-one. He was surely her age or a little older.
“The house is clear.”
The sound of his voice startled her, and she jumped as if he’d walked up and saidboo. Her face flushed, which made her immensely thankful the light by the back door was not on.
“Thanks.” She went inside, moving past him in hopes he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. No reason to beat herself up for being distracted. The past two days had been hardcore stressful. Her mind and body were likely seeking release anywhere it could be found. The thought of release had her mindgoing other places that she had not been in about a year. Places she did not need to go under current circumstances.
“You want to order pizza or something?” he asked.
She dropped her handbag on the bench by the back door and turned to answer, only to find he was standing right next to her. She jumped again, couldn’t suppress the reaction. She really had to get herself together here.
He showed her his cell phone screen, where he’d typed a message but hadn’t hit Send.
Going next door for something. Be right back. Order pizza.
She nodded and said, “Pizza works for me. I’m thinking pepperoni.”
“Add olives, okay?” he said as he headed out the door.
“Sure.”
He slipped out the back door without a sound and left it partially open. She made her way to the window and watched him hurry through the near darkness. The shrubs and trees of her yard cast the neighboring house in deep shadows. Since there was only one streetlamp on this end of the alley, it was mostly dark too. She walked to the living room and checked out the front window in an attempt to see if that black sedan was still parked on the street. She should have asked Agent Cummings if he had someone watching her. She supposed he did. If not him, maybe Detective Shelton. After all, she was a suspect.
She walked back to the kitchen and made the call to the pizza shop a couple of streets over on Andrew Jackson Way. Making a call rather than placing the order online would help to fill the silence until Ben was back. The hold time had her wondering if she should carry on a pretend conversation.
“I’ll order soft drinks too,” she said aloud.
“You have ice?”
She jumped. Jeez, she had to stop doing that. She shot Ben a wide-eyed look that loudly exclaimed that he’d scared her half to death—again. “I do,” she said, instead of warning that her heart couldn’t take any more.
He gave her a contrite look and pressed a hand to his chest as if apologizing.
His reaction stirred one in her, made her want to feel his arms around her again.
Thankfully the crew member’s voice echoed in her ear just then. With too much of her attention still on Ben in the kitchen getting ice, then water in a glass, she somehow managed to place the order and end the call.
“Pizza will be here in half an hour.”
“Can’t wait.” He patted his lean waist. “I’m starving.”
She was too. She blinked, scrambled for something to say. She started to ask if she should round him up something to snack on to go with the water, but she reconsidered, realizing he was probably just making small talk. She really, really had to get her head on straight here.
When he started what looked like a new search of some sort, she wandered over and started to follow him. They moved around the living room as he checked under lampshades, in and around electric outlets, under tables and basically about everywhere. Once, then again, and again he removed something tiny—barely the size of a dime—and dropped it into the water.
The whole time he talked…about the weather…about anything and everything.
Then she got it. Her mouth fell slack. No matter that earlier today they’d been through the whole house, they hadn’t been looking for tiny items that might look like a button or a spot on the fabric but were actually listening devices. Another went into the glass of ice water. The scene was like something from a spy movie. Brenda had actually read about clear listening devices—like little slips of tape—making them invisible once they were in place on a person or thing.
He made a rolling motion with his hand. Shoot, she was supposed to be doing the small-talk thing to disguise what they were doing. He’d done his share. Now it was her turn apparently.
She said, “You have family back home?” Since she’d allowed the silence to drag on too long, the sound of her own voice startled her. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d had to prompt her.
Sheesh, Brenda, you had this one job and you allowed distraction to get in the way.
Some spy she would make.
“I do.” He glanced at her and smiled. “My folks live in Naperville.”
