His eyes were cold. “How kind of you to come running back.” He leaned in closer, putting an arm on her shoulder in a way that a casual observer would have seen as friendly, and angrily hissed, “Don’t even think of trying to come between us again.”

She recoiled, incensed that he had the nerve to speak to her that way, today of all days. Squaring her shoulders, she flashed him her best author smile. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with how your wife is dealing with the murder of her mother than worrying about my relationship with her?” Her smile disappeared. “But don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake again.” This time, I’ll make sure that you don’t come between us, she thought as she walked away.

She was heading to the first-floor bathroom to freshen up before lunch when something outside caught her eye. She moved toward the window and saw a uniformed man standing in the shadows, next to the driveway. It took her a minute to recognize him as Georgina’s driver. What was his name? Something with an R . . . Randolph, that was it. He’d driven them around whenever Georgina had carpool duty. Blaire was a little surprised he was still alive. He’d looked ancient to her all those years ago, but looking at him now, she realized he was probably only in his forties at the time. Then she saw Simon approach him and shake his hand before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out an envelope. Randolph looked around nervously, then took it with a nod and got into his car.

Simon was already heading up the front walk, so Blaire quickly ducked into the powder room before he could see her. She couldn’t imagine what business Simon would have with Georgina’s driver. But she intended to find out.

3

The murderer was at the gravesite today—maybe even in our house.” Kate’s voice cracked as she handed her phone to Detective Frank Anderson of the Baltimore County PD. His presence comforted her, his manner sure and confident, and she was struck again by how his appearance of physical strength made her feel safe.

Taking a seat across from Kate and Simon in their living room, he read the text message with a frown. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. It could be a crank who read about your mother’s death and the funeral—there’s been a lot of coverage.”

Simon’s mouth dropped open. “What kind of a sicko does that?”

“But this is my personal cell phone,” Kate objected. “How would a stranger have gotten the number?”

“It’s easy enough to get a cell number these days, unfortunately. There are plenty of third-party services people can use. And there were several hundred people at the cemetery. Did you know all of them?”