Could he have found a way to get my phone number that quickly? I silenced it so as not to disturb Jen, who’d been dozing off in the front seat. Then I stared at the phone number as it flashed over and over.

Please don’t be him.

Please don’t be him.

I answered the phone on the last ring, deepening my voice a little in case I needed to say “wrong number” and hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Paula Wileson?”

Please don’t be him.

Please.

“Yes, it is,” I said slowly, and all the probable excuses began to float on the tip of my tongue.

My husband and I really need the money.

If you just pay it, I won’t tell.

This isn’t like me, I promise.

I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t absolutely have to.

“Mrs. Wileson, this is Dr. Jane Christensen at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. I am calling about your husband, Keith. There has been an accident.”

And just like that, it was lights out.

• • •

I didn’t really faint.

The breath was sucked out of my body so quickly that I gasped out loud. My vision blurred, and my stomach immediately cramped up. All these symptoms together made it hard for me to remain upright. I slumped to one side, my face pressed against the window, which was surprisingly cool given the warm air outside. The doctor continued to shell out words, so many bad words, that I wanted to fling the phone away in protest. Words like collapsed and IV and monitoring.

As I listened, I thought of the other telephone in my purse, glaring up at me, and I could almost feel the smugness that emanated from it.

You brought this on yourself!

You deserve it!

The doctor continued to speak for a few moments, and I listened, somewhere between defeat and disbelief. At some point, I forced myself to lean forward and speak to Vanessa, who was silently staring out at the road in front of her.

“Northwestern Memorial,” I said softly, only because I had no energy to raise my voice. “We need to go there. Please. Now.”

Vanessa jerked and looked up at me in the rearview mirror, a frown on her face. “What?”

“It’s Keith.”

She didn’t say anything else, and a moment later, we were hurtling through the streets toward downtown Chicago. We hit a bit of traffic once we crossed into the South Loop, and that brought on a panic that burned deep down in my core. I watched the brake lights of the cars around me, and I hated them for standing in the way of me getting to the hospital. Vanessa did her best, dodging around cars and bikers like a pro.