“The Four Seasons on Fifty-Seventh between Madison and Park,” Sarah told the cabbie through the scratched-up plastic partition. Mick slid in beside her, shut the door of the rattletrap vehicle, and had a momentary longing for the comforts of his Porsche.

“You got it,” the cabbie said, slamming on the gas as if he were auditioning for the Indy 500. Great. Mick reached for the safety belt. It was sticky with God knows what. He made an executive decision to make use of the handlebar above the door.

Sarah strapped in, then turned and fixed those brilliant blue eyes on his. “So, what are your thoughts?”

“It was a fascinating peek into someone’s life, an interesting character study, lots of complexities. Wish I had it on tape. Could use it to inspire my actors to dig a little deeper, not go for the obvious.”

“You think she was acting?”

“If she was, she’s damned good.”

“In here”—she placed her hand over her gut—“I am certain Vicki was involved with Uncle—” Sarah broke off, exasperated. “I don’t know what to call him anymore. For the last four years, I’ve forced myself to think of him as ‘Mr. Clarke’ or ‘Phillip,’ but now . . .” She scrubbed her hands over her face as if it would help clear her thinking. She looked troubled. “He was truly shocked when I accused him of selling me out to Kevin.”

“When you think of him, what name pops to the forefront?”

“I don’t know. When he collapsed, ‘Uncle Phillip’ came out, but that feels weird. Our relationship is in this limbo. I feel so uncomfortable about the whole cheating on Auntie Jane.” She shook her head. “Whatever,” she said. “It’s not important.”

“I do agree with you. Vicki was involved with your old lawyer. No question. There was too much anger and passion there.”

“And hurt,” Sarah said. “Like a deep sort of wounding had shaken her to the core. I’ve never seen her so undone. She’s always been super pulled together.”

“She seemed a little slurry, like she might have been drinking.”

“I think she’s self-medicating to tamp down the pain. What about when I mentioned Kevin?”

“What did you think?” Mick asked, watching her closely.

Sarah nodded. “She knows him.” There was no hesitation in her response. “I could feel it. Could see it in her eyes. She knows Kevin, but I’m not sure if she knows him in a biblical sense.” She caught her lip between her teeth, her head tipped to the side, a slight frown furrowing her brow.