The more she went on, the crazier I assumed she was. She had it all figured out. Even had the time and place picked out—some cabins on Hood Canal over Memorial Day weekend. She planned to frame Connor and give him the boot to prison for the rest of his life. I’d have an alibi. She knew that an old man walked the beach every single morning at ten forty-five. He’d done it for years like clockwork. She even made a reconnaissance trip up there to confirm it.

Axel Bakker was the key.

“Your cheating wife’s abduction will be done in broad daylight,” she said.

“By who, if I’m in a boat?”

Kristen locked her eyes on mine. It was as if she didn’t need to blink. “I’ll kill her the night before,” she said. “You’ll be traumatized. You’ll clean up the mess. That’s easy. I’ll plant Connor’s DNA on her body. He’ll go down for it. We’ll be free. You want to be free, Adam. Right?”

I admitted that I did.

“Think about it. Divorce will never make you free,” she said, still cool and resolute. “You’ll have to pay for Aubrey. I know women like Sophie. She’ll bleed you dry, Adam. She’ll be a bloodsucker. A leech. You and I both know it. The cheaters are always the most vindictive.”

I took a breath as I tried to process what she had planned. I really didn’t understand.

“If Sophie’s dead, how is that going to free me of raising Aubrey?” The words felt like bile coming up my throat, but I said them anyway.

“You’ll give her to me,” she said.

I had sat there for more than an hour, and while Kristen spun a plot for murder, my misgivings were small enough to push aside. Offering up my daughter for sale was too much.

“You are sick,” I told her. “I’m not going to sell Aubrey.”

Just then Kristen reached her hand over to mine. It was a move to quiet and control me.

“Not sell,” she said with complete conviction. “Let me adopt her.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

LEE

I see the barrel of Kristen’s handgun. It’s pointed in my direction, but she keeps her attention on Adam. I detect a slight tremor in her hand. I expect she’s not used to shooting anyone. Then again, I really don’t know her at all. I suspect that Adam doesn’t really, either. People like Kristen wear a mask every day. It isn’t makeup. It isn’t latex or anything overt like that. It’s their ability to keep their emotions hidden by pretending to be normal.

Or happy.

When they never really are.

“Did you give her the GHB?” she asks.

Adam nods nervously and indicates my glass. “Yeah, but she’s not drinking it.”