I glare at her. “So… what? You’re saying Monica is spying on me? Is that what you think?”

“No!” Shelley’s cheeks redden. “Look, all I’m saying, Abby, is be careful. You can’t trust anyone a hundred percent. Especially when it comes to something like this.”

“Yeah,” I mumble.

She’s right. That’s why I intend to investigate all of Monica’s references before jumping into this. I’m not making a mistake. I don’t care what Shelley says—I know Monica. I can trust her. This is all going to work out.

Chapter 8

“Yes, this is Jean Johnson. Who is this?”

“Hi.” I clutch my cell phone in my hand so tightly, my fingers start to tingle. “My name is Abigail Adler. Your daughter Monica…”

I don’t even know how to complete that sentence. Your daughter Monica agreed to allow my husband to impregnate her then give me the baby. When you put it that way, it does sound a bit odd.

Thankfully, Jean Johnson knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Mrs. Adler! Yes, Monica told me all about it…”

And then there’s the awkward silence.

There’s a whistling sound in the background. “Sorry about that,” Mrs. Johnson says. She has a pleasant, husky voice that makes her sound like a film star from another era. “I had put a pot of tea on a few minutes ago. I’m just going to turn off the oven. Sorry about that, Mrs. Adler.”

“Abby,” I correct her.

“Abby,” she repeats. There’s shuffling on the other line, the sound of boiling water being poured into a teacup. “So you work with Monica in New York, is that right?”

“Yes.” I clear my throat. “And you’re in… Indianapolis?”

“Yes, I am. Born and raised.”

“It must have been hard when Monica moved away.”

“Yes, well…” She sniffs. “Children do what they want to do. You’ll find that out someday.”

I analyze her tone, trying to figure out if it was a dig. I don’t think it was.

“I want you to know,” I say quietly, “what Monica is doing for me… it means the world to me.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Well, that’s Monica—she always wants to help people.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. To a fault even.” She sighs. “Whenever someone tells her their problems—she’s got an open sort of face that makes people confide in her—she has to figure out a way to put it right for them.”

I feel a little jab in my chest. Monica is giving me the thing I want most in the world and here I am, investigating her. But this is Sam’s strict condition—he won’t go through with this unless we have all the information. He’s sorting through Monica’s medical records while I make these calls. He wanted to hire a private investigator, but I drew the line at that.