When an au pair tasked with caring for the kids of two privileged couples becomes enmeshed in their secrets, she learns that having too much in common can get you killed.
Two couples share the same names, the same street, the same membership at the...
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I stand in the driveway as police officers and paramedics busy themselves around Eddie's car. I watch them pull his body out from behind the steering wheel. He is still flexible enough to be laid out straight on the stretcher. I smile remembering his constant stretching before making the long drives north to the ski hills with the Platzs. He always kept a yoga mat in the trunk and would wink at me as Heather and Stephen would fuss about their gear.
Just breathe girl. They don't own your breath, he'd say.
One of the paramedics covers him with a sheet. His final savasana. Corpse pose.
What the hell, Hannah? I hear someone call, the sound of my name shocking me out of my stupor.
I turn to see the Platz's neighbour striding up the driveway towards me.
He's dead, I say, my voice breaking.
How? A drinker no doubt. So hard to find good help these days, she says to herself and then looks sideways at me.
No offense.
I ignore the dig and walk over to the police officer in charge.
Eddie's daughter lives in town. I don't know if her last name is Greaves though. She just got married--
The officer starts to say something but as I choke on my own tears Heather Johns interrupts.
This man worked for my best friend. She and her husband generously employed what was obviously someone with...issues, she says dismissively. Before I can interject the paramedic says something in a hushed tone to the officer. I hear the words "foul play." Heather does too and goes silent.
We'll need to speak to the owners of the house immediately. Your best friend, correct? says the officer, eyebrow cocked at Heather who has now gone suddenly silent.
Um, yes. I'll text her to come home, she mumbles.
I realize that I'll be picking the kids up in a few hours. How will I explain this to Georgie? Get it together Hannah, I say to myself, swallowing my tears. I can see the interior of the car as one of the officers starts to it cordon off with yellow police tape. A small evidence tag has been placed next to something on the driver's side floor mat. Is that a coil?
Eddie didn't drink so why did Heather Johns want the police to think he did? And he certainly didn't vape. Nothing is making sense but the action around me is swirling at a pace.
Can I go inside please? I ask the officer.
I'll take care of her, says Heather, catching me off guard. Hannah's been through a lot here, she continues and then throws her arm around my shoulder. She squeezes me too tightly and I feel myself muted. My tongue feels thick as I smell the remnant of strawberry vapor on her expensive wool sweater.
This Heather knows something I don't about Eddie's death. I have to figure out what before it's too late. I'm an au pair, not a detective, but I know what it takes to survive.
Ears and eyes open, mouth closed.
Heather walks me towards the front door and hisses in my ear:
