Page 45

I never understood what Grant saw in Perla. Before her, he dated the sweetest girl ... Heather Marigoth. She was a receptionist at a law firm. Actually, she was supposed to come to that event at the church the night that Perla and Grant met. She got horribly sick a week before. Went to the hospital, in fact. They never could figure out what it was, but by the time she got back on her feet, my nephew and Perla were thick as thieves.

—Gloria Feinbaum, Grant Wultz’s aunt

I watched Paige in the backyard with Sophie. They were over by the back corner. Paige had a blue soccer ball and was tossing it to Sophie, who would hit it with her head.

Such a barbaric and dumb game. I never understood why Sophie wanted to play soccer instead of take ballet. From the start, Grant had encouraged it, and I honestly thought it was so he could yell in some stands instead of sit in an air-conditioned auditorium and watch a bunch of girls pirouetting to classic music.

The games weren’t bad, except that half of the girls didn’t understand or care, so you had a bunch of yawning preteens who were complaining as much as they were playing.

Sophie wasn’t one of them. If she was going to do the stupid sport, she was going to excel at it, which was why I’d hired private coaches early on. She was the best player on her team, which made attending the games enjoyable, at least for me. Grant seemed happy to just sit in the sunshine and clap. Once, he told a girl on the other team that they had done a good job. He had absolutely no concept of competitive edge.

I tripped that same girl when she was walking to her bus. I waited, made sure no one was watching, then stuck out my foot while shoving her forward.

Now Paige sprinted forward and dived for the ball, ending up face-first in the dirt. Sophie jogged over to help her up, and even from here, I could see that both of them were smiling.

A wave of annoyance rolled through me. Sophie shouldn’t trust strangers so easily. Was I this easily replaced? Sophie had all but tossed her journal to the side when Paige had suggested they go outside and play.

I reached into my pocket, withdrawing the small smartphone I’d purchased in one of the thrift stands at the farmers’ market. Its service was disconnected, but its Wi-Fi worked, connecting to the virtual private network that shielded our location and IP address from any future law enforcement inquiries, should they occur. Clicking on the web browser, I navigated to the email login page and entered the details.

ONE NEW EMAIL.

Surprised, I clicked on the message from Murder Unplugged . It was short and nasty, and I read through it a few times before logging out and closing the browser window. I shut down the device and slid it into my pocket.

They had already covered the emails on their podcast, so I could stop while I was ahead ... Though a single episode ... one that hadn’t yet gained traction with any major media outlets ... Was it really enough? On the episode, Rachel had said they were speaking with law enforcement, but this response didn’t seem to lean that way. Instead, they seemed to be dismissing it, and calling me a liar. We find it unlikely ... They wanted proof? Fine. I’d give them proof. I just had to figure out what.

The front door slammed shut, and I tilted my head, listening as Grant’s familiar stride sounded down the main hall. “I’m in here,” I called out.

The faint scent of his cologne preceded him, and I closed my eyes and inhaled it, appreciating the masculine scent. His hands settled at my waist, and he brushed his lips along the back of my neck, nuzzling the skin before kissing it and pulling away. “What are you looking at?” He joined me at the window, then spotted Sophie for himself. “Oh, that’s good. Look at them.”

I glanced over at him, not thrilled about the warmth in his voice. “Yes, Paige seems to be very athletic.”

He nodded. “Good. Maybe a nanny won’t be the worst thing in the world.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I told you.” My words came out lightly, and he wrapped his arm around my side and rested his chin on my head.

“It’s odd that her dad works at Lancaster,” he said.

I stayed in place, resisting the urge to face him. This topic was a land mine, one I would need to tread past carefully. “Yeah, I thought that was strange. I mean, not strange but ... well. You know. Small world.”

“Probably just a coincidence.”

I coughed out a laugh. “Of course it is. The alternative is—what? That she hunted down this job because of her dad? Because of him ?”

I turned to look at him, hoping he would warm to the idea as his own.

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, and it was enough to let me know that the seed had been planted. “Good point.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Just a coincidence.”

I held his gaze, searching those dark-brown pupils. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but he wasn’t suspicious either. That was fine. I didn’t need him to be suspicious right now. Right now, I needed him to be clueless, and Grant was good at that.

I turned back to the window and pointed. “Oh my God, I think that’s one of those tangerine birds.”

He stiffened. “A tanager? Where?” He looked, then dashed over to the desk, where he pulled a pair of binoculars from the drawer.

And just like that, the land mine was cleared.