David forced a tired, weary smile. He loosened his tie, playing the part of the oblivious husband. “That’s great. Thanks, Ted. You’re a lifesaver. Listen, I came back early because I promised Leo I’d take him to soccer practice at 3:30. I’m running a bit late.”
He looked around the empty living room.
“Where is he?” David asked. “Where is Leo?”
This was the trap.
If Sarah cared, she would check. If she didn’t know where he was, she would call his name. If she knew he was in the storage room, she might look guilty, or try to distract him.
Sarah didn’t call his name. She didn’t look guilty. She looked annoyed.
She took a sip of wine, her eyes locked on David’s, trying to hide her infidelity, completely forgetting her son’s existence.
“Oh, Leo?” Sarah said, waving her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly. “He was being a brat earlier. Making so much noise while Ted was trying to work. I sent him upstairs to his room to study. He’s sleeping now. I told him not to come down until dinner.”
Time stopped for David.
She hadn’t just lied. She had confirmed, on a recording, that she believed her son was safe upstairs. It proved she hadn’t checked on him in over an hour. It proved that when Ted dragged him away screaming, she had allowed it. She had sat there, drinking wine, while her son was locked in the dark.
She was not a victim. She was an accomplice.
“Sleeping?” David repeated, giving her one last rope. “You checked on him?”
“Of course I did,” Sarah lied smoothly, smiling at him. “He’s out cold. Don’t wake him, David. Let him rest. Come have a drink with us.”
