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He laughed and took his hand off mine. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Was there more behind it than stopping him from reporting the murder?”

“Why would there be more behind it?”

“You went at him so fast. And you really let him have it. I think Samantha was scared.”

“She should be.”

“Not about calling the sheriff, but about how violent you were.”

“He’s a big guy. I needed to give him everything I had.”

“There’s nothing else going on between you and him? Nothing that made you hit harder?”

“Why would there be anything going on? I only know the guy from you and Samantha, and the things we’ve done as couples.”

“Okay. But…”

“But, what?”

I hadn’t wanted to ask a direct question, but trying to lead him around to it wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped. “You don’t think I’m having an affair with him, do you?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Then why can’t you let go of that idea?”

“Patrick isn’t the only good-looking guy on the planet. I was hoping you’d tell me the truth, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.” He sighed and dragged his fingertips down his face. “I already know who you’ve been with.”

“I’m not with anyone but you.”

“I saw you. A few months ago. You were at the outside eating area at Pinky’s. You were drinking wine and staring at each other like you were the only two people in the world.”

I felt my stomach tighten. He couldn’t have. He’d had a meeting in San Francisco that day. I knew I was safe, that there was no way Keith would ever see me. How…? “I don’t remember⁠—”

“I saw you with the dead guy. That’s why I didn’t want to report this. When it came out you were cheating on me, I’d be accused of killing him and threatening you with that note—the betrayed husband. The cops would lock onto that story and it would be the end of me.”

FORTY-FIVE

SAMANTHA

Why hadn’t the thought of Todd’s phone pinging at our house ever occurred to me? Equally worrisome was the fact that, eventually, someone would report Todd missing. I’d willfully suppressed thoughts like this—focusing on being supportive of Emily and Keith’s feelings, and most of all, trying to hide my relationship with Todd. If the sheriff’s deputy received a report he was missing and began asking around the bars and coffee shops in the area, showing Todd’s picture, someone would eventually point to me.

During the night, while Patrick slept fitfully beside me, and I lay wide awake, I placed my hand on his chest, assuring myself he was still there. I’d considered his belief that Jordan might have killed Todd, or knew who had. Sometimes, I’d felt she was playing games—with her notebook, her blank stares, her effort to record us. Maybe this was the same. She was pretending she’d seen something just to unsettle us, hoping to drive us out of the house and out of her life.

In the few days we’d been there, she hadn’t left the property. Maybe she was only a recluse when we were visiting our beautiful house. Surely she lived a different kind of life before we’d come along.

This morning, I had decided I was going to get to know her better—a difficult quest, but critical if I was going to find out whether Patrick’s concerns were valid. She’d done everything she could to push us away. Except for Patrick. But now that I knew how she was deliriously passionate about wildlife, there might be some common ground for us to connect. I also loved wild animals. I hadn’t given Jordan much empathy for her experience with the rabbits because I was too worried about Patrick. Now, I could make up for that. And maybe I’d find out what she knew, or thought she knew, or was pretending to know about Todd’s murder.

The weather had turned hot. I could already feel warm air drifting through the open window in our bedroom. I showered and dressed in a dark blue summery dress and sandals. I put my hair on top of my head and spread sunscreen across my face without adding any makeup beyond a touch of mascara and tinted lip gloss.

After a mug of coffee and two slices of toast, I slipped out the front door while Patrick was still up in our room doing pushups. Emily and Keith were sipping coffee on the back deck.

When Jordan opened the door and asked what I wanted, I held up a basket containing a bowl of grapes, a canister of hot tea, and two small mugs I’d brought with me. “I thought you might want something sweet and calming after your ordeal yesterday. Seeing those bunnies and having to bury them.” I knew my eyes were teary and it wasn’t an act. Picturing the soft gray and white rabbits I’d seen hopping around the yard, I felt the pain of their brutal death.

“I already ate breakfast,” Jordan said.

“Just a cup of tea, then?”