“Diana, honestly. I’ve already told you everything I know.”

“Well, it’s not very much.” She shuts the tap with a flick of her wrist, grabbing the pot and swinging it around onto the island. A steaming glug of water sloshes out the spout and onto the kitchen floor.

Why do conversations with Diana always make me feel so inadequate?

“I’m only repeating what I heard, and Micah was pretty specific. I’m not supposed to go spreading anything around. He said the police are holding back details on purpose.”

“What kind of details?”

I open my mouth to respond, but a rattling starts up underneath us, a slow and subtle beat I feel in the soles of my feet. I turn to the stairs and scream, “Chet, turn it down!”

The noise builds steadily, a coal train rumbling through the hills, gaining speed and moving closer, swelling into a deafening roar.

“Chet’s here?”

For sure I caught that bitter note that crept into her voice, the way the skin around her eyes went tight, but I don’t have time to deal with it. The panel just inside the mudroom is beeping—the loud music tripping the glass break sensor on the alarm. I pop out of my chair.

I rush to the mudroom and tap in the code, then ping-pong from room to room, retracing my steps from earlier. I check under the magazines on the coffee table, the cushions of the chair across from the couch, the breakfast table and the kitchen charger. I look everywhere I can think of.

“What are you looking for?”

“My cell phone. The alarm company’s about to call and ask me for the secret word, but of course Paul told me it forever ago and he just left me here to deal with everything all by myself. There was another dead woman in the lake and he left.” It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud, and they come out angry and acidic, like the way I feel.

I cup my hands around my mouth and holler down the stairs. “Chet! Too loud!”

Right on cue, my phone rings, a shrill clanging coming from a pile of mail by the microwave.

Diana tips her head at the sound. “Dixie Cup.” Her lips spread into a thin smile, a victorious one. “Paul’s security password is Dixie Cup.”

Of course she knows. Because if nothing else, these past four years have returned Diana to her post as the most important woman in Paul’s life. Swooping in when he lost his beloved first wife, filling his freezer with individually portioned meals, patting his hand and promising him things would get better. That he would find another, that he would love again.

Except not me. She never meant he should fall in love with me.