I shook my head at the waiter that I was fine with a single glass of wine.

“No,” I said. “And we don’t need to be seen running around Goodwill, trying to find one, either.”

Adam sat there quietly for a minute.

“I have one of those sex blow-up dolls in my trunk,” he said.

“You’re disgusting,” I said.

He gave me a shrug. “It was from a bachelor’s party at work. I keep meaning to get rid of it. My worst fear is that I’m going to get in an accident on I-5, and the trooper is going to find it in the back of my car.”

I had a lot bigger reservations than that. Spending the rest of my life in prison was at the top of the list.

“That’ll work,” I told him. “Better than a mannequin. It’ll be more flexible probably.”

As we sat there, I ran everything over in my head. Backward and forward. This could work. It was risky being at the same group of cabins, but that could be explained too.

“Remember,” I reminded Adam. “We have never met. We wouldn’t know each other by sight. My husband tracked your wife to Octopus Hole. It was a surprise. Sophie had heard about the cabins too—from Connor. She booked the Wisteria cabin, posted it on Facebook, and Connor booked the Lily for us. Neither one of us had any idea what was about to take place.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re both victims here.”

“You know that’s true,” I said, thinking of our betraying spouses.

“What about the third cabin?”

“I already know who booked it.”

“Who?”

“Some grandmother with some little kids. She’ll be distracted.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know. Things happen fast. This will all be done in a blur.”

When we get up to leave, Adam gave me that obvious and unmistakable look that men give to women when they think they have a shot.

I made a note of that too. Never know when you’ll need to use something like that.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

CHAPTER EIGHTY

LEE

“She’s a liar,” Adam says flatly. “I could never hurt Sophie. Sure, I was pissed off at her. Yes, I hated that Aubrey wasn’t mine but in fact was some other guy’s kid. I would never be a party to killing my wife. You have to believe me, Lee.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I say as the three of us face each other in the living room of Adam’s pricey Seattle home.

Kristen is calm. Adam is unraveling. I know you are a killer, Adam, I think. Janna Fong told me about the blow-up doll in your trunk.

He jabs a finger in Kristen’s direction. “She’s crazy.”

Again, Kristen doesn’t react. She’s oddly flat. Calm.