Watching You by Michael Robotham

Professor Bradshaw.”
    “Second floor. Have a good day.”
    She wants to say, “You, too,” but can’t get the words out.
    Climbing the stairs, she steps aside for students who are too busy typing text messages or dialing up music to watch where they’re going. One boy bumps into her and reacts as though he’s been infected.
    The last time Marnie visited the university she had argued with the vice-chancellor, who threatened to have her arrested for trespassing. Her request for Daniel’s personal effects had been passed between various departments, up the chain of command, until it reached the vice-chancellor. She waited four hours. The message came back. The locker was her husband’s private property and couldn’t be opened without a warrant or approval from the University Executive Team.
    “You could make a written application,” she was told. “Provide us with evidence.”
    “What sort of evidence?”
    “A letter from your husband.”
    “My missing husband?”
    “I can see that might be a problem,” said the vice-chancellor, who refused to give way.
    Now she’s back again, without a warrant or a letter, taking matters into her own hands. On reaching the third floor, she stops outside an office door, unsure if she’s in the right place. She only visited Daniel once after he took a job at the university. She and Elijah decided to surprise him, bringing him his favorite iced coffee. They spied him on the stairs, surrounded by bright young things, girls with wedged haircuts, skinny-legged jeans, and tight tops who talked in breathless sentences, using the word “like” as a punctuation point. Daniel was telling them newspaper stories, colorful, behind-the-scenes anecdotes and untold truths that couldn’t be written because of libel laws or public sensibilities.
    He looked so relaxed. Happy. Handsome. And these young wannabes were hanging on his every word. Marnie could picture them, flirting with Daniel, leaning over his desk. He had such an easy smile, which is why he was so successful as a journalist. People opened their doors, invited him inside, and poured out their hearts.
    Marnie had felt a pang of jealousy. These girls would make him happy. They would laugh at his jokes and give him sex when he wanted. They would straddle him on the sofa at halftime during the football and fetch him beers from the fridge and blow him when it was their time of the month. They wouldn’t have two children or stretch marks or gray roots poking through their fringe.
    She remembered how he used to be; how he’d come home after the Saturday-night deadline, hyped about an exclusive story, beer-loose and horny. He’d squeeze her in his strong arms. Fondle her breasts.
    “God, I love you,” he’d say.
    “We have to wait until Zoe is asleep.”
    “She won’t hear us.”
    Marnie would let him kiss her. Feel his hands slide lower, his fingers searching. His hardness.
    She tries to remember the last time something like that happened—spontaneous, sweaty, passionate sex—but can’t fix it in her mind. So much about their lives had become routine. Days rolled into weeks and months and then blended to form one amorphous mass that felt like existence rather than living.
    All of these things ran through her mind as she watched the girls flirting with her husband, but she forced the images away and scolded herself for being stupid. Guiding the pushchair along the corridor, she called Daniel’s name and waved.
    Instead of being pleased to see her and Elijah, he reacted strangely, as though embarrassed about having a wife and a child. Marnie felt a pang of hurt.
    The office door is locked. Trying the key, the handle turns and she peers inside. There are two desks. Daniel used to share the office with another part-time lecturer. Boxes of books and papers are stacked like bricks to form a precarious wall between two filing cabinets and matching lockers. Old newspapers have been collected in the corner, yellowing at the edges,