I said goodnight to Graham in the voice of a woman who had noticed nothing, and I ended the call, and I stood in the hall with the telephone pressed against my chest, because a person who has just learned that a house is listening does not turn her head toward the walls.
I did not look at the lamps, or the ceiling, or the small keypad beside the back door that the security contractor had replaced the week before the wedding, and I walked out through the garden door as though I wanted nothing more than to stretch my legs, and I kept walking until the gravel gave way to the grass.
"Hartwell's," Priya said, when I had told her, and her voice had gone very quiet. "That is the house, then. Amelia, you have to tell him tonight."
"And when he asks how I came to know?"
She did not answer, beca
