The Side Effects of Marriage

Chapter 15

Hayden hauled the trash bag onto the curb, shoving it into the black garbage bin with a satisfying thud. The clinking of the various cameras, microphones, and other surveillance paraphernalia didn't hurt, either. He hoped they were crushed in the garbage compactor.

"Doing some spring cleaning?" Layla said when she exited her Lexus, now drivable after its cut brake lines and other various damages had been repaired by Jerry's brother.

"The house felt rather claustrophobic with all this... clutter," he said, looking her dead in the eye.

For some uneasy time, they were allies instead of enemies. He didn't want to think about how long it would endure or when it would end. He could only enjoy it while it lasted.

"I'm glad you took the initiative to clean it up, then," she said, her gaze meeting his.

He didn't know if it was approval or resignation in her eyes, but Hayden was never one for overthinking. It was only in the recent past, since he'd quit the force, that he'd begun doing so. He reasoned that his excess mental energy had gone down a dark path, but there was only so much mental energy one could put into punching numbers on a calculator.

As they walked into the house, he said, as nonchalantly as possible, "When's the next ultrasound?"

"Not for a while," she said, her tone sharp enough to brook no disagreement. She didn't want to talk about their children. They didn't have a nursery set up, or any ideas for a baby shower, or any of the excessive parties that neither of them were keen on throwing. "Did you find anything else?"

"Besides the scads of surveillance equipment hanging around our house?" he said. "I made some calls."

"To?" She kicked off her shoes at the door, hanging her purse on a hook.

"A few old friends from my FBI days. One of them may have what we're looking for."

"And?" With Layla, you could never tell if one-word responses meant she was mad or not. She was generally never the sunniest person, but a lack of verbosity could simply mean that she didn't feel like talking.

"He looked up Amara in the database. No matches for Amara Tang, but there was an Amy Tang." He kept his tone casual, wondering if his next words were something he ought to keep to himself. "There was also an Amara Lee."

"Common last name," Layla said, looking fed-up with his habit of slinging his jacket over the couch as she aggressively shoved it onto the hook. The coatstand wobbled.

"I didn't say anything about her last name," he said. "You brought that up."

Layla stiffened. The coatstand toppled over, and she jumped out of the way. "I'm just saying it's a common last name."

"Do you know her?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Because we share one of the most common names in the world, let alone in Asia?" she said. "No, I don't know her, Hayden."

He kept wanting to believe her, but she kept giving him reasons not to. "I see."

She crouched down, goig to pick up the fallen coat rack, but he stopped her. "I'll do it."

She glared. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I'm perfectly capable of picking things up on my own, Hayden Song."

"Did I say you weren't?"

"The subtext was there." She shoved the coat rack into his chest. "I'm going to see if your mom wants any help in the kitchen."

"She's at the spa, remember?" he said. He'd sent her away that morning in order to scour the house for bugs, not wanting to arouse her suspicion. Besides, the last thing he wanted was for his mother to get caught up in the middle of this mess that had become his life. This tangled knot of crime, illegality, and deception... "She'll be back around eight."