“Ronni, Rick has a pattern. He pursued me the same way, and he’ll continue to pursue you until the precise moment he starts pursuing someone else.”

“Victoria, I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you’re telling me this, but...”

“You deserve to know some things, Ronni. Has he mentioned his first wife?”

“You’re his ex-wife.” I was shaking my head at a row of dis-infectant supplies on a shelf.

“His first wife. Her name is Becca. He left her for me. I’m not surprised he didn’t mention it. I’m eight years younger than Rick and I was pretty naïve when I met him. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ronni?”

I wasn’t about to admit it. “No, Victoria, I really have to go ...”

“Carrie Douglas,” she interrupted. “You should ask Rick about Carrie Douglas, too. When and if you decide to speak with him, make him tell you about his past.” She hung up and I stood with my mouth hanging open, staring at the phone.

twenty-eight

VIOLET

Violet was in the middle of drying the shower walls when she heard the truck. Tolly considered one droplet of water a breeding ground for mold and the first step on the road to the hellish vision of spotted bathroom tiles.

She walked to the bedroom window and pulled the gold brocade back to see the Superior Electric logo and Chet walking the stone pavers toward her house. Had he completely lost his mind? She grabbed her robe and turned to the mirror instinctively, smearing heavy makeup on even as she knew she wouldn’t answer the door.

He rang the bell three times before resorting to knocking. He was pounding harder each time and Violet wondered if he’d damage the antique wood door. At last he backed up, examining each window for signs of life. She stayed carefully hidden, heart pounding with excitement and fear. Violet swept her eyes down the street; the next house was far away and she knew the Garrisons would likely be out at this hour. Besides, it was perfectly normal to have an electrical service call at one’s home, wasn’t it?

Maybe not one from two counties away.

She watched him climb into the truck and drive off. Out of sheer habit, Violet did her hair and makeup in full. She was a Southern woman empowered by those rituals; the type who wouldn’t walk to the mailbox without making sure she looked her best. Even telephone conversations were easier for her after thirty minutes in front of her vanity. She chose a rose silk dress and paired it with a white cardigan to cover the bruises on her arms, thinking if you’d asked her why she was going to all this effort with no possibility of being seen, she’d have had no reasonable answer.