Page 70 of Hushed

I put my hands on his shoulders. “Stop. Breathe.” She’s already seen the truck. Hiding now only confirms it. “She’s got eyes on the driveway. Probably has had since last night. We’re already compromised. The only play is to control the narrative.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we bluff it out. Follow my lead. The guiltier we act, the guiltier we look.”

I walk to the front door before he can argue. I open it to reveal a small woman in her sixties, with silver hair and sharp eyes. There’s something unforgiving about her face, as if she’s meeting you to find what she’s going to hold against you. As an instructor, she must be terrifying.

“Hi!” I pitch my voice warm, confident, nothing-to-hide. “I’m sorry, we were in the kitchen. You caught us with three burners going and a pie about to come out. You’re two hours early, so I’m afraid we’re not quite ready yet.” I turn my head. “Honey! Can you check on the tourtière?”

Julia’s eyes narrow. She looks me over the same way I’m looking at her.

She thrusts a tub of margarine that she’s been holding like a weapon at me. “Your pound.” She nods at it.

“Oh, well, thank you.” That’s going straight into the trash can. “Very thoughtful.”

“Who are you?” she demands.

“I’m Levi. Bastien’s partner.” I gesture to the shoe rack by the door. “Shoes, please. House rule.”

Behind me, in the hall, Bastien stops moving.

She looks at the rack like I’ve asked her to surrender her sidearm.

“I’m not early,” she says, ignoring the shoe rack entirely. “Lunch is at noon. Twelve noon.”

She steps inside without removing her shoes.

“The invitations said two,” Bastien says, appearing behind me. “It’s in the email chain. Your shoes.”

She stares at us and bends down, grumbling. “I saw there was a strange truck in your driveway and thought the guests had already arrived.” Her tone is sweet, but there’s a barb in it. She wants us to know she’s been watching.

“Strange truck?” I frown and open the door to check the driveway. “I don’t see a strange truck. Just mine.”

“You didn’t have it parked there before.”

“We’ve been sharing his car. Mine was in the shop.” The lie comes easily. “You know how it is with older vehicles. If you ever need a mechanic, I know a guy who does great work, but the wait time is brutal.”

“Weeks,” Bastien adds, catching on. “And one thing goes after the next. I’m telling you, you need to trade that in.”

“I like the truck! I bought it right after Basic.”

“Exactly. Honey, it’s had its day.” He exhales in frustration and then turns back to Julia. “Sorry. Old arguments. Do you want some wine?”

Julia’s eyes flicker between us. She doesn’t believe it, but she can’t prove otherwise. Stalemate—for now. “I’ll take the wine.”

The doorbell rings again.

Bastien answers, and a middle-aged woman with brown hair is standing there with a bottle of wine. I’ve seen her in the hallways enough to recognize her. And if I’ve seen her, she’s seen me. She looks at me in surprise. “Molly Baker.”

“Levi Knight.”

She glances at Bastien. “Of course. Levi. So nice to put a face with the name.”

“Molly’s head of department,” Bastien contributes. He’s still smiling.

Great. So, his immediate supervisor. “Of course. He has a lot of respect for you. Please, make yourself at home.” I gesture to the shoe rack.

Molly smiles at me, but her eyes remain shrewd. “The dean called everyone to say we’re meeting early,” she says. “I brought wine. Julia, honey, the invitation said two, not twelve.” She takes off her shoes quickly. “I’m afraid the rest of the department is right after me. I wasn’t sure if you use sugar, so I brought a pound of it.” She hands it to me anxiously.