“A cement truck plowed into my parents’ vehicle. My dad died on impact. My mom passed away in the ambulance on route to the hospital. The driver of the cement truck must have been high or drunk, because the footage shows him backing up and taking off. The license plate was covered in mud and was unreadable. Every time I see a gray cement truck, this irrational rage wells up inside. I fantasize about dragging the driver out and punching him on the nose. It doesn’t matter if the person was actually the one who killed them and then drove away, leaving my parents’ car and their broken bodies discarded like litter on the road. I literally hate all drivers of gray cement trucks.” Mick didn’t look shocked or repelled by her revelation, but inside he probably wanted to run screaming from the room. Sarah exhaled slowly, suddenly weary. “The next few days passed in a blur. So much to set up, graves to purchase, coffins, headstones to order, a funeral to arrange, a memorial, food, flowers, what the readings should be, and on and on and on. Jane and Phillip helped. Vicki, too. But still there were so many details that only I could attend to.” She paused, looked down at her hands encased by his. “After it was all over and everyone had gone home, there was the legal stuff that needed to be dealt with. Wills to be read. Papers to sign. Kevin took the day off work to come with me to Phillip’s office.”

“And . . . ?”

“And I’m not sure if I mentioned this before, but when the will was read Kevin . . . wasn’t pleased.”

“Because your parents tied their estate up in a trust? It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Many people do.”

“Yes, but this one had a caveat. It was to be kept in trust for as long as I was married to Kevin. If we ever got divorced or he died, the trust would be dissolved and I would own everything outright.”

“Pissed him off.”

“You could say that. He took it pretty personally. When we got home, he took it out on me. Me and the baby.” She could hear her voice. It sounded flat, emotionless, just stating facts now, one after another, too tired and heartsick for any more tears.

“That son of a bitch.” Mick’s curse was a low growl that had her gaze flicking upward to his face. Anger and a vow to avenge her and her unborn child were blazing from his eyes. Good, she thought. Let Kevin know what it feels like to be hunted and scared.