It was almost amusing to see Hannah’s face fall as it hit her that her secret was out. How arrogant, how stupid she’d been not to ensure the house was secure. Anyone could have wandered in the front door as Susan had done and they’d have reached the same conclusion as she had. How could they not; the house stank of death. A sliver of worry pierced a tiny hole in her satisfaction. Nobody knew she was there and this woman had already killed; what was to stop her doing so again? As soon as Susan had realised Hannah was asleep, she should have left to search for the proof, taken a photo, then scarpered.
Oddly, although she was worried, she wasn’t scared. In fact, to her surprise, she hadn’t felt so alive in a long time. Perhaps her sisters were right. She’d needed to get out there and do something rather than moping around the house. A vague idea that her sisters hadn’t meant confronting a husband-stealing murderer in an isolated house miles from home, was brushed aside.
She wasn’t scared, nor was she stupid. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on going to the police. I should, of course, but that would keep me entangled in your life and that isn’t what I want at all. So, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, shall I?’ Unsurprisingly, Hannah didn’t reply. It was good to be in control, to have the power, to stop being so damn weak. ‘I’m going to take a photo of the poor man, then I’m going to leave.’ Susan saw surprise flicker across the woman’s face. Yes, she wasn’t expecting that, was she? ‘You’re surprised. You shouldn’t be. All I want from you is my husband. So, it’s going to be an exchange, okay. I keep your crime a secret; you leave my husband alone.’
‘My crime.’ Hannah shook her head. ‘You’ve no idea. No clue.’
She suddenly looked older, less exotic. More like me, Susan thought, surprised. Or maybe it was simply that the balance of power had shifted away from Hannah and it was that power that had made her seem something special. Or maybe she was simply as weary of everything as Susan was. Maybe… and this struck her as a possibility… being with Mark hadn’t proved to be the magic spell that Hannah had hoped.
‘No, perhaps not. But d’ y’know something, I don’t care. All I want is my life back the way it was before you came barrelling in.’
Hannah snorted. ‘Because it was so perfect? Mark said you were moping about the house like a wet rag fretting about your son. It sounds like the boy moved as far away as he could to escape the smothering hold you had on him. He wanted out. Mark wants out. You think I could have lured your husband away had he been happy?’
Once more, Susan was filled with a desire to unleash the violence that seemed to be constantly on a simmer just waiting for someone to turn up the heat. She could do it, grab this woman by her stupidly glossy hair, smash her face against the wall. Punish her for… for what, wanting what she had? For not only wanting it, but for having the balls to go after it. Who was really at fault here? ‘Happiness needs to be worked at. Like marriage. I love Mark, but I’m not blind to his faults. He’s a weak man, easily swayed. It’s thanks to me that he’s been as successful as he has. If I’m not making him happy today, I did yesterday, and I will tomorrow. You’re like the perfume they spray on test strips in department stores; you take a sniff, think it’s fabulous, then you throw it away and forget about it. That’s the way it’ll be for Mark.’
‘You think?’ Hannah looked amused.
‘I know.’ Susan opened the door and pointed. ‘I could search every room for your poor husband’s body but the sooner I’m gone, the better. Before I leave, I’ll want you to send Mark a message telling him it was all a mistake and you won’t be seeing him again.’
‘I’m beginning to like you, you know; you’re very amusing.’ Hannah didn’t sound at all amused but when Susan pointed again, a jagged jabbing of her finger through the doorway, she huffed a noisy, resigned sigh and walked from the room. ‘Right, I’ll take you to the body, but not till I’ve had some coffee.’ She didn’t wait to see if Susan agreed or not, striding purposefully towards the stairway and descending two steps at a time.
Susan hurried to follow, a half-formed thought that the woman was going to try to make a run for it fading when Hannah turned for the kitchen.