“And you,” Quinn said, “are a hypocrite. You had no trouble helping me get rid of Wally’s body. This is no time to get sentimental.”

Helping me get rid of Wally’s body. Emily couldn’t help but feel relieved that maybe Frank hadn’t actually killed him. Without meaning to, she shifted her gaze. Her eyes locked with Frank’s. He flinched.

“What?” Quinn said.

“I . . .” Frank said. In the pause that followed, he continued staring down at Emily. Was he going to rat her out? She wanted to believe that he’d gotten himself into this situation not with a huge leap, but inch by inch. An attraction. An affair. Imagining what-if. His devotion to Emily weakened by months of passionless sex, the timing dictated by her basal body temperature. Emily knew firsthand how Quinn could hone in on vulnerability and lure you in. She’d gotten Emily to express feelings she’d never admitted to anyone, even herself.

Emily squeezed Frank’s hand. She could only hope that he’d remember what they’d been to each other.

“Back the car up to the door,” Frank said.

Quinn went out. Frank got behind Emily, hooked her arms, and dragged her backward across the floor and out of the unit. The air smelled of car exhaust as Quinn backed the Honda up to them. Emily heard a click. The tailgate unlocking. Frank reached across and raised it. “Get her bag,” he called. “The stun gun, too. And pick up the pieces of the camera from outside.”

While Quinn was in the storage unit, Frank positioned himself to block her view and whispered, “Get in.” Emily scrambled into her car through the open tailgate. “Stay down and hold on.” She lay curled on her side as he closed the hatchback. Seconds later the front door of the car opened and shut. The car lurched in reverse, throwing Emily against the back of the car’s backseat. Then it peeled out.

“Frank!” From outside, Quinn’s voice pierced the air. “Where in the hell are you . . .” Her voice grew faint until it was gone entirely.

“Emmy, are you all right?” Frank said.

Emily’s side throbbed and her face still stung. But she hadn’t been run over twice or pushed off a cruise-ship railing. “I’m—” The car took a sharp turn and accelerated. Emily was tossed from one side of the car to the other. She heard the piercing shriek of a siren. Blue lights screamed past in the opposite direction. Emily looked out the back window as the speeding police cruiser continued toward the storage facility. Mrs. Murphy, bless her heart. She must have called the police, after all.

“I’ll be okay,” Emily said.

Frank tossed her his cell phone. “Call Ryan. Tell him to meet us at the police station.”