You should get her some strawberries. Did you know they have more vitamin C than citrus fruit?

Fiona shakes her head impatiently. I had no idea. Well, weve got to get ready for church now, so thanks.

Pat is getting on her nerves now, just as Brynn was getting on her nerves yesterday, hinting around again at going to the police.

But thats not going to happen,she a.s.sures herself, closing the door after her ex-husband.

All Fiona has to do if her friend brings it up again is mention the prospect of prison. Brynn cant bear the thought of anything coming between her and her family.

Two kids and a terrific husbandthat was Brynns description of her life in a nutsh.e.l.l. Fiona overheard her say it when she was catching up with one of their old sorority sisters before the funeral.

Two kids But how terrific is her husband?

Fiona cant help but remember that June night at Aura in Boston, when Tildy introduced her to James. The three of them were having a nightcap at the bar when Fiona spotted Garth, of all people. It turned out he was staying there at the Seaport Hotel for an academic conference.

Hed already had a couple of beers and was more than willing to ditch his stuffy colleagues when Tildy invited him to join them.

Fiona didnt miss the silent look that pa.s.sed between the two of them. Maybe, if she hadnt been so preoccupied with James at the time, shed have nipped it in the bud right there.

It being whatever might have happened between Garth and Tildy after James drove Fiona back to her own hotel at Copley Plaza.

Was it a mere flirtation that wound up with both of them going their separate ways at closing time?

Or was it a repeat performance of their secret tryst that began back in college and continuedright under Brynns nosewell into the year after graduation?

They were living together at the time. And Fee doesnt think Tildy and Garth were constantly hot and heavy. But Tildy had a thing for older men, and she could be intensely seductive. It isnt hard to see why Garth continued their on-and-off fling for awhile after meeting Brynn.

It stopped when they got married, though. Tildy confided in Fiona that Garth told her to steer clear; he was taking his vows seriously.

That was before he and Brynn had kids, though, and she went from doting wife to supermom housefrau.

Garth was probably ripe for some seductive attention by the time he ran into Tildy in Boston. Fiona doesnt know exactly what happened, though.

She keeps trying to tell herself she doesnt care.

But she does, for Brynns sake.

She alone realized the potential implications of the investigation into Tildys death.

If the detectives start sniffing around her past in Cedar Crest, tracking down every man she ever slept with Well, the trail would eventually lead to the Saddlers door.

Fiona knows Brynn well enough to realize what her husbands premarital infidelitywith one of her closest friends, no lesswould do to her. Never mind how she would react to Garths postmarital infidelity, if that really is the case.

I should have confronted Tildy about it while I had the chance.

Now theres a very good chance sh.e.l.l never know what happened that night.

She certainly isnt about to ask Garth, and she doubts hed tell her the truth anyway.

But she has other things to worry about right now. Things that are far more important than the true state of the Saddlers fairy-tale marriage.

Brynn waits until noon to dial Garths cell phone.

Yesterday morning, she made the mistake of calling him at five in the morning his time, having forgotten he was on the opposite side of the country. Pregnancy hormones again, afflicting her with temporary amnesia.

He called her back in the afternoon, as she was driving back to the Cape after lunch with Isaac.

How horrible was it? he asked.

Pretty horrible, she admitted around a sudden lump in her throat, missing him desperately.

Hes so far away,she realized. And she was acknowledging not just the hundreds of miles, but the monumental secretshersthat lay between them.

Weighted by guilt, she filled Garth in as briefly as she could about the church service, then told him she couldnt stay on the phone because she was behind the wheel.

They havent talked since.

Shes about to hang up now when Garth answers sleepily.

There you are! Did I wake you?

He yawns. No, I was up.

Brynn laughs. No, you werent. Sorry. But I wanted to hear your voice.

Well, I dont mind hearing yours, either. In fact, I wish today were tomorrow and I were headed home.

Me, too. How did you do yesterday with your presentation?

You know. The usual. Everyone listened politely and asked pertinent questions, but all they really wanted to do was present their own material. How are the boys?

Still in bed. Theyre worn out. Late night last night.

Did you have fun?

Its Brynns turn to say, You know. The usual.

What are you doing today?

More of the same, Im sure.

Are you okay? You sound wiped out.

She hesitates, wishing she could tell him the truth about whats going on with her. All of it.

But she cant tell him any of it, so she a.s.sures him that shes fine, just tired.

Me, too. I cant wait until were home again, and everythings back to normal, Garth says.

Back to normal.

So easy for him to say.

If he had any idea But, of course, he has no way of knowing that for the Saddler household,normal is a long way off.

Isaac doesnt recognize the number in his cell phones caller ID window.

He answers it anyway, standing on the street, on his way to the deli for sandwiches. Kylah said she needed carbs.

Mr. Halpern? an unfamiliar voice asks.

Yes?

This is Detective Hiles of the Boston Police Department.

Isaacs heart lurches into his throat, rendering him momentarily mute.

Im investigating Matilda Harringtons death and Id like to speak to you as soon as possible.

To me? Isaac has recovered his voiceor someone elses, judging by the uncharacteristically high pitch. He clears his throat in an attempt to lower it. Why do you need to talk to me?

Routine.

I really didnt know her well. I was there more because she was a friend of my sisters, years ago.

Thats fine. This is just routine, the detective repeats. Were talking to everyone whos had any contact with her.

But I havent. Not in years, and even then Its just routine. The detective emphasizes the word yet again. Were touching base with everyone who was at the memorial service yesterday. Ill be in New York tomorrow. What time is good for you?

Ca.s.sie never should have waited until late afternoon to try and find her way back to that grocery. Especially on a Sunday.

The place was closed by the time she arrived. A couple of teenagers on skateboards in the parking lot told her how to get to a larger market, but either they gave her the wrong directions, or she took a wrong turn.

Hopelessly lost, she drove in circles, finally deciding to forego food in favor of making it back to the cabin before dark.

That didnt happen; she had traveled farther than she thought, in unfamiliar territory.

Now, at last, shes made it back.

She parks at the designated spot about a hundred yards down the path from her cabin, cuts the headlights, and immediately wishes shed thought to bring the flashlight.

Wow. Its pitch-black out here.

Never in her life has she experienced such complete darkness. Theres no moon tonight; the dense canopy of trees would probably obstruct the light even if there was.

Her heart is pounding as she begins to pick her way over the rutted path.

Again, she hears an unnerving rustling in the bushes.

Again, she reminds herself that its just a moose.

But then, Louise did say the best time to see a moose was in the hour before dusk not two hours after.

Are mooseor is itmooses? nocturnal creatures?

It doesnt matter, surely plenty of other animals are.

Still, the closer she gets to her safe haven, the cabin, the more incongruously uneasy she feels.

Youre fine,she a.s.sures herself.

n.o.body even knows where you are.

She reaches into her pocket to find the key to the cabin. The lock is a joke, really. Its an old-fashioned one, with an old-fashioned keythe kind hotels stopped using years ago because they arent secure.

Ca.s.sie inserts the key in the lock, thinking of her alarm system and series of dead bolts back home.

But none of that is necessary up here, she reminds herself as she opens the door and steps into the cabin, which is even darker than the inky night beyond the threshold.

Shes safe here.

No one knows where she is.

Theres no way anyone could Happy birthday, dear Ca.s.sie, a voice sings, close to her ear.

Then she hears the click of a lighter, and the darkness is pierced with an eerie glow.

In that one, terrifying instant, Ca.s.sie takes it all in.

The cake.

The candles.

The decorations.

The face She opens her mouth, but a hand roughly closes over it, stifling what would have been Ca.s.sandra Ashfords dread-drenched last words.

What areyoudoing here?

She recognized me.

Thats obvious. Even in the dim light, even in this G.o.dforsaken spot where she would never expect to see a familiar face Let alone mine.

And as much as Id like to look her in the eye and tell her exactly what she did to me and what I plan to do to her Shes struggling, instinctively raking her fingers at her captor, fingernails acting as weapons.

This isnt good; shes fighting and clawing like a panther, leaving telltale marks that may be hard to conceal.

No, this isnt good at all; there can be no delay.