“It’s not what you think,” Parker said.

“Oh, it’s not? What am I thinking, then?”

“I didn’t kill Hannah,” Parker said. “You have to believe me.”

“Why should I? If you lied about the fact that you followed her, you could have lied about what happened once you caught up with her.”

“That part is true,” Parker said. “But I knew if I told the police that I’d followed Hannah, they would think I was involved in her disappearance. James understood that, too.”

“I don’t believe you,” I countered. “Women have always been your weakness, and Diana told me you were in love with Hannah. You wouldn’t have walked away from her. Especially not if she was taking her clothes off.”

Parker stared at me, his expression suddenly cold. Hostile, even. “Oh, so you think I’d sleep with James’s girlfriend?”

“Fiancée,” I corrected him. “That’s another little tidbit of information no one bothered to tell me. James and Hannah got engaged that weekend. That must have been really hard for you.”

“Oh my god, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then why don’t you tell me where I’m wrong? Because someone killed Hannah, probably that very night. You’re the one who was with her last. And it’s starting to sound like you had a motive.”

“Motive? What motive did I have?”

“You were in love with her. But she was in love with James. She was going to marry him.”

“You don’t know anything about how I felt, or how Hannah felt, or what was going on with James,” Parker said harshly. “You don’t know anything about it. You never did, Maggie. You’ve always chosen to keep your head buried in the sand, especially when it comes to James.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve always put him on a pedestal. But he’s not the man you think he is. He never was.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you serious? I think I know my husband better than you.”

To my surprise, Parker laughed, and shook his head ruefully. “That’s where you’re wrong. Why don’t you go ask James about what really happened that night, Maggie?”

Parker opened a drawer, took something out and tossed it on his desk. I stared at it. It was a plastic ring. The kind you could buy out of a vending machine for a quarter.

“Ask him about that,” Parker said. “And get him to tell you the truth, for once in his life.”

Chapter Nineteen