Lily shook her head, remembering. “No,” she said. “We drove into the Berkshires. There was a little ski area, where he had learned how to ski as a boy. The road was so pretty. It wound into the hills, through the woods. Edward told me that he loved the forest—trees made him feel closest to his roots. The sea belonged to me, but he loved getting lost in the woods. We drove up the mountain trail . . .”

“Which ski area?”

“Mount Blantyre,” Lily said. “There were just a few yellow leaves left on the branches, but we climbed the mountain, into the darkest pines. Suddenly we emerged—at this amazing overlook. We parked in a lot filled with other cars. The day was quite warm. People had come to hike.”

“And you were pregnant?”

“Yes. But by then I wasn't sick anymore. I really wanted to stretch my legs, get some air after the drive. He got the picnic basket out . . .”

Liam looked away, as if he couldn't bear to hear about a day with Edward. Or perhaps he knew what was coming next.

“We headed up the trail,” Lily said. “We passed a few people, everyone smiling and saying hi. Edward was telling me how when the baby was born, he'd teach him or her how to ski. We'd come here every weekend in the winter—and maybe even in the summer or fall, for hikes. Hubbard's Point would be for summer, of course.”

“Did you pass a lot of people?” Lindsey asked.

“At first,” Lily said. “But they began thinning out.” She breathed steadily, remembering. “Everything was fine. I was getting hungry, thinking we should stop soon. The trail wasn't steeply pitched. He had chosen a long, lazy hike, and I remember feeling touched by his care. Edward liked extreme hiking—almost rock climbing. That day we took the easy route—but even so, there were some serious drop-offs. I remember feeling a little vertigo, but not too bad. I'm a New Englander—good and hardy when it comes to the outdoors.”

“Lily . . .” Liam said. He gazed at her; he could feel what she was about to say.

“Suddenly Edward stopped. We were on a long straight stretch of trail, at the head of a rock face. It was such a simple thing he did . . . he looked left, then right—” Lily said. “And I knew.”

Lindsey and Liam just stared at her.

The hair still stood up on the back of Lily's neck when she remembered. Edward had been looking to make sure no one would see him push her off. “The look on his face was all-business. His eyes were black, focused. He stepped toward me, grabbed my wrist.”

Lily swallowed, cringed, reliving it as she so often had in her dreams, nightmares of Edward. The coldest, most fearful part was also the seemingly most innocent: when he had stopped, looked oh-so-casually back and forth.