He was seeing Neil around every corner now.

Please-no-no—

'The FBI,' she said, her voice hitching. In a rush of relief, Thomas realized they must have taken her into custody, probably to scare her into cooperating. 'You-you told them about me and Neil, didn't you?'

'What did you expect me to do, Nora?' Do the crime, do the time, bitch.

'Look, Tommy. I don't know why I told you. I-I should never have told you. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt…'

Unfuckingbelieveable. She was apologizing for telling him that she was fucking his best friend, as though honesty were the only real sin here.

'Yeah, I was pretty shocked,' he said with breezy cruelty. 'I mean, imagine that. Finding out your whole life was—' A sudden pang pinched his voice silent. He squeezed hot tears from his eyes. Cursed himself for an idiot. 'Imagine,' he continued in a broken voice, 'finding out your whole life w-was a fucking sham.'

How could you do this to me, Nora? Please!

'You're bitter,' she said, as though naming some inevitable adolescent phase.

Fucking bitch! Fuck-fuck-fucking cunt-whore-bitch!

Somehow he managed to squeeze out, 'I'm sure it'll pass.'

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Thomas realized that she was crying.

'Hey…' he said softly.

'What am I going to do, Tommy?'

She loves him. Loves Neil.

His sigh was as much the product of disgust as regret. 'Listen. You gotta get a lawyer, Nora. Don't mess around. You can be guaranteed they won't.'

'But who?'

'You need someone ruthless. Bloodthirsty and smart. What about that Kim guy you used with us?'

'He's a divorce lawyer, Tom.'

'Exactly,' he said, hanging up.

He leaned his head against the wall for a moment, afraid he might vomit. Being mean-spirited just wasn't in his nature—no matter how hard he tried.

Stupid. So fucking stupid!

What was he doing, feeling ashamed? Served her fucking right.

Besides, they were probably just bullying her.

'I wanted to say hi!' Frankie bawled from the kitchen. Ripley stared into her empty cereal bowl.

Thomas jumped when the doorbell rang, actually dropped the phone.

'Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!' he hissed under his breath.

'Where's Mommy?' Frankie cried.

Thomas crept to the window, glimpsed Mia on the porch, wearing cut-off shorts, a tank, and fluffy-white slippers. Nosy prick, he thought, unable to repress a grin.

He reluctantly opened the door.

'No work today?' Mia asked, leaning against the frame.

'I called in sick. Thought I'd give you a break from the kids.'

Mia nodded, his look one of cartoon-skepticism. 'So,' he said pleasantly, 'the FBI was here…'

'And then some,' Thomas said.

'They interrogate you all night?'