He hesitates for a long beat then sighs tiredly, as though he’s already regretting this. “The old lady in the green house, diagonal from you? She puts arsenic in cans of cat food and leaves them out at night to kill strays.”
I gasp.
So much for sweet old Susanna…
“Couple two doors down, in the yellow house? They have BDSM swinger parties twice a month. Whips, chains, leather, the whole shebang.”
I gasp again, louder.
Looking at those two, you’d never guess their sex life resembled a Rihanna song…
“And the family that lives around the corner, the ones who look like something out of a catalog? That house is triple-mortgaged and the husband spends most nights gambling away his paycheck while his wife works two jobs.”
Really giving new meaning to the term ‘spousal privilege’…
My jaw is practically on the table. “How do you know all that?”
“I’ve been working this case for six months.”
My eyes widen. “Translation… you’ve beenwatching mefor six months.”
“Your husband, actually. You were just collateral damage.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better!” I snort. “I suppose I should be flattered you spent day after day monitoring my every move.”
“Not every move,” he mutters.
“Just most of them?”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t refute me.
“God, Gallagher! That’s such an utter violation of privacy, I don’t even know where to start!”
“It’s not a violation of privacy,” he grits out. “Surveillance is part of my job.”
“Whatever you say, stalker.” I roll my eyes. “What else have you learned in these six months? Hmm? I think I have a right to know. It is my life you’ve been spying on, after all.”
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “The man in the house on the corner was charged with murder twice in his home state before moving to Massachusetts — due to the disappearance of his ex-girlfriends.Plural. Only reason he got off was a lack of physical evidence. The police never found the bodies.”
“What?! Not the guy with the gorgeous petunias!?”
He nods tightly.
“Wow. What a shame.” I pause. “Honestly, his garden is unparalleled.”
“Hunt. The man is an accused killer.”
“And an exquisitely talented gardener!”
He shakes his head at me in disapproval.
“You don’t think…” I trail off.
His brows lift.
“Never mind.”
“Spit it out, Hunt.”