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Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Part One
  4. Claudine
  5. Zara
  6. Henry
  7. Zara
  8. Zara
  9. Claudine
  10. Henry
  11. Zara
  12. Claudine
  13. Henry
  14. Zara
  15. Claudine
  16. Henry
  17. Part Two
  18. Claudine
  19. Henry
  20. Claudine
  21. Henry
  22. Claudine
  23. Henry
  24. Part Three
  25. Zara
  26. Claudine
  27. Henry
  28. Zara
  29. Claudine
  30. Zara
  31. Henry
  32. Part Four
  33. Claudine
  34. Henry
  35. Claudine
  36. Henry
  37. Claudine
  38. Henry
  39. Part Five
  40. Claudine
  41. Henry
  42. Henry
  43. Zara
  44. Zara
  45. Claudine
  46. Henry
  47. Claudine
  48. Zara
  49. Claudine
  50. Henry
  51. Claudine
  52. Henry
  53. Claudine
  54. Henry
  55. Claudine
  56. Zara
  57. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

A million thoughts flooded through her. She’d whip up some tears and run back into the party. She’d struggle to get the words out. Bartender … slammed me … Henry … tried to stop him … heart attack … grabbed the knife … stabbed him … The investigation would be quick. Unlike the Miller murders, they had witnesses. The party guests. They would believe her. It might take a little while for the house to sell, to escape another blemish of tragedy, but eventually it would. People always forgot. Even though Zara was a lost cause, Claudine would still get notoriety. She’d be known as a fighter, a survivor. Maybe she’d appear on talk shows, get a book deal, go on the lecture circuit. She’d be bigger than ever. She’d have to change the stationery and the sign on the office door. What would she call it? Not Calhoun Realty. Something more ambitious. The Calhoun Agency. That was better. Or maybe the Calhoun Company. The alliteration was a nice touch—

Hit from behind, Claudine dropped to the ground.

Zara stood over her body, breathless. She was holding the cowboy statue she’d hit her with. Already there was a light dusting of snow on Henry who lay by her side. They’d fallen in a V shape, their hands reaching for each other’s but not touching. Pip scurried over and sniffed them. Pomeranians aren’t known to spontaneously howl, but the dog tipped her tiny face up to the sky and let out a sorrowful song.

Zara

Listen, I don’t consider myself a hero, but I know a lot of people do.

I’d been looking for the bartender, to say goodbye. Fine, to slip him my number. That’s the only reason I went out there. From the living room, none of us could see Claudine and Henry and Thomas arguing. The snow was coming down too hard. And you couldn’t hear them, either, thanks to the soundproof triple-paned picture windows Henry had originally installed in the house. Plus there was so much commotion about the extra present and everyone deciding what to do next. People were pretty tipsy. They all started caroling, even gathering around the piano and singing “Deck the Halls.”