“Or,” she continues, “more like my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend.”

“Are they… mmm?” How do I ask in a tactful way? Impossible. “Sorry, I don’t want to meddle if you’re not comfortable talking.”

She shrugs. “Talking is better than crying, and at least you’re a total stranger. It’s not like you can judge me.”

“I wouldn’t,” I say, and relax against the door. “Shoot.”

“You have an iPhone?”

Weird question, but I answer anyway. “Yeah?”

“Ever used the Find Friends app?”

“No. How does it work?”

“It allows you to share your position with your contacts, to see each other’s location at all times.”

That sounds like my very own personal hell. Imagine everyone being able to geo-target me at any moment. Oh, the paparazzi would love to have me pinned down like that.

“But you can turn it off, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. To access their location, a contact has to approve you.”

“And your boyfriend approved you?”

Seems like a stupid move for someone having an affair.

“Yeah, they both did.”

Even more stupid.

“But it was ages ago. I’m talking five or six years ago.”

I low-whistle. “Long relationship.”

Especially considering I’ve never made it past the one-year mark.

Lana winces. “Longer, unfortunately; we met in college.”

“So, the app?” I prompt.

“Yeah, sorry. We all followed each other on a weekend we went hiking in Big Bear, in case someone got lost. And I guess neither of them thought of withdrawing the approval.”

“And the app is telling you they’re both here?”

Lana swallows and nods.

“Could they not… I mean, could it be innocent?”

“Two adults booking a room at the Peninsula? They’re not here to play Scrabble,” she hisses.

No, probably not.

“I’m sorry,” I offer. “First time this happened?”

“No, I-I don’t think so.” Lana takes a deep breath, possibly to stop more tears from coming. “I like to check on John’s position from time to time…”

“John’s the boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Johnathan. And I’m not a psycho-stalker who likes to track her boyfriend’s every move or anything. It was more to see when he was coming home from work so I could set the table, or other silly things like that. Always knowing where he was felt… I don’t know… comforting?”

Definitely sounds more stalkerish, but better not to contradict an angry, crying woman.

“Anyway,” Lana continues. “About two months ago, I saw them in the same location, downtown, at lunchtime. But then afterward Summer—my best friend—called me and told me she’d bumped into John and that they’d eaten together, so I didn’t read much into it. Not until it happened again last week.”

“For the first time in two months?”