"I gave up so much to be with you," Phillip continued, as though he hadn't heard Paula. "I had a wonderful life in Chicago. A loving wife who took care of me, a beautiful home." Phillip looked at Paula and narrowed his eyes. "And then you came along-"

Paula jammed her hands over her ears, knowing what was coming. "No please, stop it," she whimpered as her head snapped left to right.

Phillip dropped to his knees and buttoned his hands over Paula's wrists before he wrenched them down by her sides. "And then you came along and threw yourself at me, begging me to take you back, telling me how much better you were for me than she was."

"Please-!"

"And even after I told you I was devoted to my wife, you kept coming at me, pleading and whining-"

"Phillip, no!" Paula squirmed beneath Phillip's grasp, the torrent of water still spurting from her eyes.

Phillip's voice plowed through Paula's protests like a bulldozer. "And then you made her believe we were having an affair, made her want to leave me and when that wasn't enough, you started stalking her, calling her, following her-"

"Oh, God!"

"And then you killed her! You followed her that night and you smashed that rock into her beautiful face and killed her!"

Paula let out an anguished yelp and tried again in vain to twist away from Phillip's rough grasp on her wrist and the ugly truth that had pushed past his lips.

"But I had to! I had to kill her!"

"And then because I felt sorry for you, I covered for you, kept you from going to jail, put you in the hospital instead. And all I asked in return was that you take care of me, be good to me." Repulsed, Phillip flung Paula's hands down until they hung by her sides like limp strands of spaghetti.

Paula collapsed across the edge of the tub, her tears slippery against the fiberglass. Phillip had verbalized the worst nightmare of them all. She often saw herself running after Tracy that snowy night, her feet crunching into the fresh flakes. She had finally caught up to Tracy and swung her around to face her. The two women had argued and in a rage, Paula had pushed her down onto the ground and slammed that rock into Tracy's face until she finally stopped screaming and writhing. Horrified by what she had done, Paula had called Phillip and begged him to help her. He had agreed, saying it was obvious Paula wasn't well and he would take care of everything.

And he had.

But every day Paula was reminded of what she had done. Phillip had saved her life and she was determined not to let him down.

Phillip was leaning against the doorjamb. "I think you should stay in here the rest of the night. Maybe that will teach you a lesson." For the second time that day, Phillip slammed the door shut behind him and locked it with a strident click.

TWENTY-NINE.

True to its name, Dive's decor boasted an aquatic theme. There was a water wall separating the bar from the restaurant and water swirled beneath the light blue Plexiglas floors. The deep azure walls were interrupted by stark postmodern black and white prints of various water images. Each table was draped with crisp white linen tablecloths and small cobalt colored vases with white tea lights floating inside. Located in River North, a neighborhood renowned for its upscale restaurants, Dive had been a roaring success with its soul food tapas concept and its sister restaurant, Flow, tucked off the Magnificent Mile on St. Clair, had come on the scene a few years later as a wine bar. Both had made Jack Turner a rich man and a minor celebrity in Chicago.

Sondra now sat inside the dimly lit restaurant waiting for her sister's former boyfriend. Sondra checked her watch. She had called earlier and was told he would be in around eleven. It was now a few minutes past. As was her way, Sondra was growing impatient and let her gaze wonder across the vast expanse of blue as the staff bustled around her getting ready for the lunch rush. At eleven-fifteen, Jack came bounding through the door in full deal-making mode, cell phone glued to his ear, shades pulled down over his eyes, and talking a mile a minute. He was swathed in a cream linen shirt and trousers with black leather man sandals or mandals, as Sondra called them. He came to a dead stop when he saw Sondra sitting at the bar staring at him. He hung up and ambled over to where she was.

"Sondra? Hey what are you doing here?"

She ran her tongue across her teeth. "I'm in town for a few days. I need to talk to you and it's important."

"Yeah sure, my office is in the back."

He motioned for Sondra to follow him, and she hopped down off the black iron bar chair. She jogged to catch up to Jack, who was unlocking the door of his office. He turned on the light and set his briefcase, keys and cell phone down on the tempered glass desk.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a straight back, hammered metal chair with a deep blue cushion. Jack pulled his desk chair around so that he was sitting face-to-face with Sondra.

"So, what's up?" he asked. "What brings you to town?"

Sondra sniffed. "A few things. I saw Cicely Anderson last night." She waited to see what kind of reaction she got from him.

"How's she doing? I haven't seen her in a while."

She pressed her lips together into a thin line. "I want to know what was going on with you and my sister."

Jack frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Were you having an affair?"

"What? No, of course not."

"She was leaving her husband, Cicely said you told her you still loved Tracy and Tracy was going to file for divorce-"

Jack held up his hands in protest. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a minute, she was getting a divorce?"

"Yes, she was-"

"Just what, exactly, are you getting at?"

"Were you and Tracy having an affair?" Sondra repeated.

Jack licked his lips and looked Sondra dead in the eye. "Not only no, but hell no."

"Cicely said Tracy had been getting a lot of phone calls that upset her right before she disappeared. Was it you?"

"Sondra, I am telling you, there was nothing going on between me and Tracy. It's like I told you, I ran into her, she said she was unhappy and that was it. That was the last time I saw her."

"Why didn't you tell the police?"

"I already told you why."

"Where were you the night she disappeared?"

Jack didn't say anything, merely stared at Sondra. "Excuse me?"

"How much did you want her back?" She licked her lips, drops of sweat snaking across her upper lip. She hadn't intended to get so worked up, but the more she thought about things, the angrier she got. "Did you get so upset that you killed her? You blew your chance with her and so nobody could have her?"

"How could you even ask me that?"

Sondra looked at Jack, searching for any sign that he was lying. She saw nothing. She broke her gaze and let her head plummet to her chest.

"I'm sorry, Jack, it's just, when I found out she wanted to divorce Phillip and Cicely said you wanted her back... "

Jack looked up at the ceiling, trying to choose his words carefully. "Yes, I loved Tracy more than anything in the world," he said. "I would never hurt her like that. We weren't having an affair; we weren't talking about an affair. Nothing like that at all. Before that last time, I hadn't seen or talked to Tracy in over a year." Jack brought his head back down and focused his eyes directly at Sondra. "And that night? I was here at the restaurant. I came in at three and didn't leave until well after two a.m. Then I went home and slept for ten hours."

Sondra looked at Jack for a few moments. "Okay," she said. "I believe you."

Jack looked down at the floor. "Thank you."

"I just want to know what happened to her. I need to know."

Jack shook his head. "You may never know."

THIRTY.

Paula had slipped out of bed quiet as a mouse. Phillip had finally let her of the bathroom, but not before he had forced her to her knees and made her tell him over and over how much she loved him before he allowed her to crawl into bed, limp as a rag doll.

This morning, she was determined to show Phillip she was worthy of his love. She pressed his blazer four times, almost burning a hole into the thick fabric. She made him three slices of French toast instead of his customary two and four slices of turkey bacon rather than three. She just wanted to make him happy, because when he was happy, she was happy. She spread the peanut butter for his lunchtime pb&j sandwich across the fluffy white bread, mindful not to tear holes in the delicate slices. After packing Phillip's lunch, Paula forced her trembling fingers to assemble the breakfast food on the table. She waited for him to emerge from the master bedroom, her nerves tight as a drum. Finally, the door creaked open and she heard him pad across the abundant white carpet. He gave her a stern look before his eyes swept across the table.

"I made extra breakfast this morning," she said. "I hope it's okay."

Phillip set a cold stare on Paula. "I've been forced to have fast food for my dinner the past few nights. You know how much I hate that."

Paula's eyes dissolved into pools of water. "Oh, I am so sorry you had to do that. Can you ever forgive me?"

"You will have to do a lot to earn my trust back, Paula. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Oh, yes, anything, anything at all."

Phillip gave her a curt nod of approval. "Good. We can start today. I would like you to start by disinfecting the walls from top to bottom. Then scrub the tiles in both bathrooms with a toothbrush. Afterwards, I want you to sweep and mop the garage. And I still expect dinner to be on the table at six when I get home. If I find any of those things not to be done when I return, you will be punished."

Paula stood in front of her husband, her eyes bolted to the floor before she nodded her agreement. "Yes, dear. I will do all those things," she whispered.

Phillip threw back his shoulders. "I'm glad we understand each other. Oh. And one more thing. You will feed me my entire meal this morning."

Paula pinched her lips shut. "Yes, dear."

"Alright then. Now. Open wide."

Obediently, Paula held out her tongue for her vitamins and followed them with a glass of water. Phillip waited for Paula to seat him at the kitchen table. She started to pull up a chair next to him when he held out his hand.

"Standing," he said.

With a plaintive inhale, she stood in silence next to Phillip and fed him each forkful of his breakfast. She managed not to spill anything and when he indicated he was done, she dabbed the corners of his mouth with the soft fabric of the white linen napkin she'd tucked into his collar. Paula went into the kitchen to retrieve the lunch she had made for Phillip, who stood by the closet, impatient for his blazer. She handed him his lunch and got the blazer out of the closet. As she started to put it on him, he grabbed it from her and held it up for inspection.

"Much better job today. You are already improving."

"I just want you to be happy, dear," she murmured as she helped him into the jacket.

He smiled and gave her a cold peck on the cheek. "We haven't had relations yet this week. Expect to have them tonight."

Paula swallowed. "Yes, dear. Have a good day."

Phillip turned on his heel and left the house. Paula stood rooted to the spot until she heard his car pull away. With an audible sigh of relief, Paula fell against the couch for several minutes before she began her chores for the day.

THIRTY-ONE.

After her visit with Jack, Sondra was still worked up and had smoked two cigarettes in six blocks.

Needing to get out of her head for a few hours, she wandered into a nearby movie theatre to watch some inane comedy that elicited few laughs. Still, it felt good to focus on something other than the persistent questions swirling around her head about Tracy. She was about to walk back to her hotel when she changed her mind and hailed a cab instead.

"Belmont Harbor please," Sondra said. The cab merged onto Lake Shore Drive and headed north. As soon as she got out, she lit up and began walking east towards the lake. This particular stretch of Belmont was filled with an endless assortment of trendy boutiques, glittery yogurt shops and cramped convenience stores filled with the pervasive musk of incense. It was ironic that Sondra lived in a swanky Manhattan high-rise while Tracy had lived in a funky Chicago neighborhood.

Sondra reached the trail and began to stroll along the lakefront, where summer was in full swing. Sailboats dotted the brilliant blue waters of Lake Michigan; young mothers pushed strollers where their sleeping babies dozed; rollerbladers whizzed by and joggers bopped down the trail. Sondra enjoyed the warm summer winds washing over her, though she hated the reason she was here.

Just ahead of her, Sondra could see the rocks where Tracy had been found. She quickened her pace before breaking into a run. Hyperventilating, she finally reached the spot where that dog walker had found Tracy. She knelt down and looked at the jagged and broken boulders. Sondra shuddered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. The points of the boulders jutted up at varying angles, like pins jammed into a pin cushion. Sondra stared at them and let her fingers trail over the rocks, wincing in pain as she thought about one of those spiky edges driving into her sister's face, splitting it open. Had that maniac been watching her, planning what he would do to her? Was it spontaneous? Had he grabbed Tracy from behind? Maybe he'd asked for the time or directions. When had she realized he meant to harm her? How long had they struggled before she understood that she would suffer a painful and violent death at this man's hands?

Sondra began to twitch with violent sobs as all the horrific possibilities of those last few moments of her sister's life danced in front of her. Sondra looked out over the horizon at Lake Michigan, her eyes brimming with tears and tried not to picture how it must have been. Sondra stood and let her cigarette drop, watching it roll away from her. It got caught on the sharp corner of a rock before falling over the edge and out of her sight.

THIRTY-TWO.

Sondra wasn't sure how long she sat at Belmont Harbor. She just wanted to be lost in her thoughts, even though she couldn't make sense of all the emotions churning around inside of her. With a heavy grunt, Sondra got to her feet and started walking until she found herself back on Belmont. Sondra thought about Tracy's house not too far away. Maybe... maybe she would stop by and see... Well, she didn't know what, but something was drawing her to it. A few short blocks later, she found herself standing on the sidewalk out front.

Sondra took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. It was a few moments before a short, slightly overweight woman with frizzy blonde hair and red acne scars coloring her cheeks answered the door.

"Can I help you?" she said with the cautious tone of a woman who had perhaps shooed away one too many salespeople.