Page 71 of One of Us Is Guilty

You have no idea what it’s like.

Some people are comfortable telling lies. It comes as naturally to them as breathing. I struggled with it, even as a kid. My mom always knew it was me who had accidentally dropped a plate on the kitchen floor, or left a window open by mistake, or stained the couch – even when I denied it as sweetly as I could.

She could just tell.

Could Patrick tell?

It was late, and I was in his office, copying. I heard his voice before I saw him.

He was talking to Geoff, that lech. I turned round, caught a glimpse of them both in the hallway. They were laughing and slapping each other on the back. The laughter had a cruel quality to it. As if the only enjoyment these men could have was at the expense of someone else.

I turned my back, focused on the copier.

It was after seven, and almost everyone else in the campaign office had gone home, with just a few staffers in the mailroom licking envelopes and folding posters for the next day’s drop.

‘So you’re the new girl,’ said a voice.

It wasn’t Geoff’s Brooklyn drawl. This voice had an education and money behind it.

I turned to see Patrick leaning against the desk, looking me up and down. He had a smile on his face, but there was no warmth to it. He looked at me like I was rare steak. The thing about men with power is that they can’t help but remind people of it, even in their smallest gestures. It hangs off them like a bad smell.

‘How long have you been here?’

He put an emphasis on the ‘you’, as if I was some gold-plated Ferrari he’d just discovered in his garage.

‘About a month, now.’

‘A month? How come I haven’t . . . You know what? Never mind. Thank you for all of your hard work on the campaign. Together we can really rebuild this state: restore it to what it used to be, you know?’

I smiled and said of course, and added that I was rooting for him to win.

He cocked his head, looked me up and down and said, ‘As much as I really appreciate all your efforts, it’s getting a little late to be working. You want to get out of here and go somewhere?’

I played the innocent.

‘Go where?’

‘Anywhere . . . ah . . . Why don’t we go get a drink and you can tell me what you think of the strategy? I assume you’ve seen the latest poll numbers?’

‘Sure, that would be fun. And yeah, I saw the numbers. The needle is starting to move in our direction.’

‘Spectacular,’ he said, throwing his arms wide. He smiled and his gaze lingered on my legs.

I’m no fool. I knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t my take on campaign strategy or poll numbers. Don’t think I’m an innocent in all this. I know exactly what I’m doing.

I do.

I promise.

I’m not under any illusions.

This is where I knew it could go.

Maybe where I hoped it would go.

And it’s not because I’m attracted to Patrick. I just need to get close to him. Real close.

I need this man to trust me.