“You’ve been—” She looked up at the ceiling, at the crown molding, at the smoke detector that was not a smoke detector.

“You’ve been recording me?”

“I’ve been recording my house.

For four months.

Along with everyone in it.” He let that sit.

“And this morning I never went to the airport.

I came back in through the service gate at seven-forty and I have been sitting in the control room under your feet since seven-fifty-one with the audio up.”

The phone came out of her hand.