In Her Eyes Sarah Alderson (e book free reading txt) 📖

‘OK,’ I say, trying to grasp at something, something that will prove Nate is wrong, has to be wrong, but the words are jumbling on the page in front of me.

‘I don’t know anything about this,’ I hear myself say. ‘Maybe it was part of the policy, something they offered as an extra.’

When I look up at Nate he looks like he’s wincing, in pain. He shakes his head at me. ‘We spoke to the insurance broker. Robert was asked if he’d like to add the home invasion cover.’

‘He was asked if he wanted it or he specifically requested it?’ I snap back.

‘Either way he said yes,’ Nate answers. ‘Per the terms of your policy you’re entitled to half a million dollars compensation in the event of a home invasion, half a million more for a life threatening injury, up to five million in medical costs incurred as a result of any injury and ten million dollars for any death resulting from said home invasion. That’s a lot of money. A lot of incentive.’

He points at the figures on the piece of paper so there’s no way I can deny them. ‘I’m sorry, Ava. I know this must be difficult.’

I look at him. ‘No, it’s not difficult. It’s absurd. It’s crazy. You really think Robert would arrange to have me killed just so he could collect on a life insurance policy?’ I burst out laughing again. ‘You have no idea what you’re saying. This is Robert. He wouldn’t . . .’

‘There’s more.’ He reaches for another sheaf of papers from the folder.

A shiver of dread rides up my spine.

Nate pulls out some photographs. I think at first they’ll be the same ones that Horowitz showed me of Robert in the pawnshop but they’re not. These aren’t CCTV images but surveillance ones, each of them large format and glossy. The images are fuzzy, as though they’ve been taken at night without a flash. The first thing I recognize is our car in the corner of one shot. And then I make out Robert, though he has his back half turned away from the camera. He’s talking to two men on a street corner, handing them something. I don’t recognize the men. They’re in their twenties, I would guess. One looks like he might be Hispanic, the other white.

‘What is this?’ I ask. ‘Who are they? Where was this taken?’

‘These two men,’ says Nate, pointing at the men, ‘are Raul Fernandez and James Hill. Oxnard have had them under surveillance for months. They’re drug dealers. Rap sheet a mile long between them. Aggravated burglary, sexual assault. Both of them have done time before for dealing as well as robbery. Fernandez was charged with homicide eight years ago and stood trial twice but was acquitted after the jury couldn’t reach a unanimous verdict.’

‘OK,’ I say slowly, staring at the photo in horror. ‘What was Robert doing with them?’

‘Soliciting their help. We believe he’s handing them cash – these photos were taken on the same day Robert visited the pawnshop three weeks ago, two and a half weeks before the break-in. The DEA had Fernandez under surveillance, which is how we have these photographs.’ He points at the item in Robert’s hand. ‘We think this is Robert handing over the five thousand dollars he made from pawning the jewelry earlier. That it was the down payment on the job.’

‘No.’ I can’t help smiling. This is all a joke. It has to be.

‘You’d like to hazard a guess then,’ Nate says. ‘What was Robert doing at two a.m. talking to two of Oxnard’s least upstanding citizens?’

He’s got me there. I stare at the photograph. ‘I don’t know. Have you tried asking him?’ I shake my head, tears welling. ‘He didn’t do it,’ I whisper, but there’s a plaintive note in my voice.

‘Ava,’ Nate says gently. ‘Robert specifically asked you to go out for a date night, something you admitted in our second interview was not something you regularly did. In fact, you said it had probably been three or four years since the last time Robert instigated a date.’

‘It doesn’t prove anything,’ I argue. ‘And you’re contradicting your own argument. You claim Robert was targeting me but if he was why would he have planned for us to be out having dinner?’

Nate shakes his head. ‘He wanted to make sure he knew what you were doing that night so there could be no surprises. And it gave him an excuse to get June on a sleepover. He planned the break-in for when you’d be home.’

‘No,’ I push back, refusing to accept it.

‘You were the target, Ava. He unset the alarm.’

‘To put out the trash.’

‘He didn’t put the trash out. The trash was empty.’

I shake my head, confused.

Nate’s eyes burn into mine as he waits for the penny to drop. And then it does. Robert told me he turned the house alarm off to put out the trash. He lied. What else has he lied about?

Chapter 21

Robert shuffles into the room with his head down, looking like a man who has just been given a terminal diagnosis. He doesn’t look at me. Is that a sign of guilt, or just embarrassment? He’s wearing a too-big orange jumpsuit and a pair of white paper slippers. His hands are cuffed. I glance at the door, checking my escape route, realizing with a shock that for the first time ever I’m afraid of the man I married.

He slumps into one of the plastic seats opposite me and I stare at him. Who is this man in front of me? Have I ever really known him? I leaped so readily to his defense earlier with that lawyer Horowitz and with Nate – but did I speak too soon? Is Nate right? Did my own husband conspire to have me killed? It’s such a horrifying thought, but even worse is the knowledge that I just don’t know.

Robert casts a glance at the door and then at the two-way mirror.

‘No one