Ryan stepped between us.
“They’re security cameras.”
I stared at him.
“In our bedroom?”
“We’ve had break-ins in this neighborhood.”
“Inside the bedroom?”
“They cover the windows.”
Claire whispered,
“Mine points at the bed.”
Silence.
Ryan turned toward her.
“It doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Claire—”
“I noticed it yesterday.”
I felt sick.
“You knew?”
She looked at me.
“I thought it was weird, but I assumed you knew about it.”
Of course she had.
Any normal person would assume a married couple knew whether a camera was pointed at their bed.
I didn’t.
I dragged a chair beneath the device in our bedroom.
Ryan tried to stop me.
I screamed so loudly that he backed away.
“TOUCH ME AND I CALL THE POLICE.”
Claire shut and locked the bedroom door behind us.
Ryan began pounding from the hallway.
I climbed onto the chair.
The fake smoke detector twisted loose easily.
Behind the plastic casing was a tiny camera.
Claire covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
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