Vera sighed. ‘Since the talk of the lawsuit, we’ve known we had to get out of here. If we stay, he’ll destroy us financially. Or else’ – her breath came shakily, her voice half-cracked – ‘or else one of these days, he’ll get tired of hurting us indirectly and actually do something to John. He’s already slashed his tires. How hard would it be to cut the brake line? The cops would never be able to prove it was Sam, even if they did care enough to try and figure it out.’

Her eyes briefly caught her husband’s, then turned back to mine. ‘Where we disagree is, John hopes that it’s all going to drop by us moving and not telling anyone where we go, waiting out the statute of limitations, but I think we need to … I don’t know, I think we need to do something a bit more drastic.’

Abruptly, John set his glass down. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, then pressed his palms to his knees, as if willing his hands not to shake. He nodded to Vera, then turned to me, eyes steady on mine. ‘You know that hike we went on, right when we first met?’ he asked. ‘Vera’s idea is, well … I’m not sure if you remember, but a girl died there.’

‘How could I forget?’ I asked, feeling again that back-of-the-neck, hair-standing-up sensation, like Dusty with his hackles up. Knowing true safety couldn’t be guaranteed anywhere.

Vera leaned ever so slightly forward. ‘We want to be honest with you, Lucy.’

‘I thought you were being honest with me,’ I said. ‘I can’t handle any more secrets. It’s like emotional whiplash.’

She nodded. ‘What I’m trying to say is, can what we say not leave this room? Hell, not leave this coffee table?’

‘You can trust me,’ I said.

Vera’s hands were folded neatly in her lap. ‘I was thinking if John, you know, actually disappeared, maybe this would go away.’

‘You already told me that,’ I said.

‘No, if it really looked like he was gone,’ she went on. ‘If he and I went to that spot, and he went off the trail – he’s an experienced enough hiker to find his way – and if I told the police he fell, I think they’d believe me. Sam Alby would have no choice but to drop this.’

My gaze darted between them as I tried to understand.

‘It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds,’ John said. ‘They didn’t find the girl for weeks. She was way down, past where the river feeds into the Hudson. It was awful, but Vera thinks, because of that, it would be believable if they didn’t find me, that people would assume I’d drowned …’

‘Wait,’ I said, jaw agape. ‘You’re not actually serious. Faking your own death?’