Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

AINSLEY

A fter Illiana left, I turned toward the doorway that led into the hall, where I knew Peter would be waiting. When he stepped out into the living room, it was of absolutely no shock to me. His face was ashen, his expression filled with panic.

"They found the truck?"

I nodded. "Don't panic. We knew this would happen."

"But already?" he asked. "And why is she here? Why would you bring her back to the house?"

"I needed to think, Peter. She freaked me out. I was caught off guard. I needed to collect myself, and this was the first thing I thought of. I thought bringing her here would help her see that we're a normal, non-murdering family."

"Except that we're not, Ains. And you brought her here, told her Stefan was here that night. What do you think is going to happen once she gets the police involved? If they get a warrant to search the property—"

"That isn't going to happen," she said, holding a hand up to stop my rambling. "We're fine, Peter. Everything's fine. They don't have a body. They don't have any true reason to suspect us."

"What if they find your DNA in his car?"

"They won't," I said, his worried expression haunting. "I wore my hair up, with my hood over it. I wore gloves, a face mask. There should be no DNA there. And, even if there is, I didn't lie about going on a date with him. I can say we were in his car for a while."

"Were you?" he demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "That's hardly the concern right now, don't you think?"

"We can't let her tell them about you. About us. The last thing we need is for the police to be snooping around while we're still trying to get our story in order."

"What would you have me do, Peter? Kill her? "

He flinched at my words. "No. Of course not."

"Listen to me," I said calmly. "We have our story straight. He came over because I'd been ignoring him. I have the messages to prove that. I didn't answer the door. I called you to come home, but he'd left before you got here. That's all we know. We haven't heard from him since."

"That story gives me all the motive in the world."

"It doesn't. Not when the cheating was mutually agreed upon. You were seeing other people, too."

"I don't want that to come out. I don't want the police to know about it."

"Which is why I told Illiana I was cheating on you, but if it comes down to it, we'll tell them the truth."

"Aren't you the one who said we need to keep our story straight?"

"With the police, yes. But our marital issues aren't Illiana's concern, and that's what I'll tell the cops."

"I don't want this to get out," he said. "What will the kids think?"

"I hope it doesn't come to that, too," I agreed. "But right now, we have to wait and see what's going to happen."

"She's not going to give up."

"There's nothing for them to find," I said assertively. "We have to remain calm." I drew out the last two words. "That means you."

"I am calm," he said, though we both knew he was lying. "I think we need to move him."

"We can't do that," I snapped. "It's too risky."

"More risky than leaving him buried under our porch? " he asked, his cheeks growing splotchy with scarlet as his anger took over.

I stood my ground, my arms folded across my chest. "More risky than un burying him and trying to move him without getting caught."

He groaned. "I disagree. Having him here is the biggest risk, Ains. We have to be smart about this.

"I agree. And moving him would not be smart."

"I think it would," he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree, won't we?"

"But do what you decide anyway…"

I didn't nod, but I didn't need to. We both knew it was how it would go. I was the only one who could think rationally in a moment of pressure.

It was why Peter had always been so impulsive in heated situations. While, under normal circumstances, he was prone to thinking things through thoroughly, in moments of fear or anger, he'd been known to lose control of himself. He let his fear, his passion, his worry, and his desire make decisions before his brain could.

He lived inside his head, where horrible outcomes were always right around the corner, and that quite often brought him to moments like this. Moments when he said or did the wrong thing and couldn't manage to stop it. No, if anyone was going to handle this, it would be me.

"I could go out there and do it anyway."

I scoffed, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. "Be my guest, Peter. That sounds like the smartest possible thing right now when we're sure our friend, Illiana, could be back any moment with the police. But sure, you go right ahead and get to digging."

Panic and anger swelled in me, each fighting to supersede the other. My vision began to tunnel at the thought of police pulling into the driveway. Police asking me to replay my version of events for them. Handcuffs on his wrists. The slam of prison bars.

"I need some air," he said, bringing me back to him.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, but he was past me before the sentence ended. He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and stormed out of the house. I watched as he went but made no move to stop him. I needed space as much as he did.