“And yet we have two murdered students at Sacré-Coeur, a female victim in Tennessee, and you’ve admitted to traveling under false papers, which, as I’m sure you know, is a very serious crime, especially in light of our current security situation. You are a contradiction in terms, as they say.”

“I didn’t do any of it, except for getting the fake passport. I swear.”

Badeau nodded. Was the woman softening? Sutton felt a glimmer of hope.

“Tell me again how you came by the false papers?”

“My friend got them for me. She said she knew a man who could help me disappear. He does work with women’s shelters, getting abused women new identities so they can flee their situations and still be able to get a job. He creates a whole backstory, gives them a new passport, new license, new everything. It’s like witness protection, only run by real people, not by the government.”

“I will need this man’s name.”

“I don’t know it. My friend handled everything. Inspector Badeau, please. I know you don’t believe me, and we can hash through the details as long as you want, but I have to make a call. I need to warn my husband. If my friend is behind this, if she’s trying to hurt me instead of help me, I have to talk to him. I have to make sure he’s watching out. If he gets hurt because of my stupidity, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I must alert the police in your home state about this situation. Once we have discussed things, you may make a phone call.”

“Are you arresting me? Formally?”

“Not yet.”

“Can I leave?”

“Most certainly not. As I said, there are many unanswered questions. You have broken a number of laws, and you must answer for those crimes. To start, I will need the name of your friend, the one who got you the papers.”

Sutton nodded. She hoped like hell she was wrong, but there was only one person who knew where she was. “Her name is Ivy Brookes.”

Badeau took down the name as if Sutton hadn’t just betrayed the past few months of her life by uttering those innocuous words. She stood. “I will have food brought to you. I will be back soon, madame.”

Sutton put her head in her hands on the table.

Oh, Ethan. What have I done?

Through a Glass, Darkly

THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY

Ethan walked through the door to a stranger’s house. The home, their beautiful Victorian home that they’d rebuilt from the inside out, still stood grandly, but he no longer recognized it. Too much had happened. Too many hurts and lies and painful nights brewed together under the roof. Too many ghosts. Far too many ghosts.