There was a stretch of silence that filled the hotel room, interrupted only by the occasional car horn that penetrated up from the street.

“Victoria was in an impossible position. She was no saint, and I’d never argue otherwise. She was having an affair with a married man. But she was looking at going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.”

Avery saw Natalie swallow hard, on the verge of crying.

“She didn’t kill Cameron Young,” Natalie said.

“I know. Or, at least I think I know. I took a deep dive into the case and the evidence, and some other things that were not made public about the investigation.”

“How?”

“With the detective”—even peripherally saying Walt’s name brought her to the edge of tears—“who ran the investigation.”

“Can you prove it?” Natalie asked.

“That Victoria is innocent? No. Not this many years later. But I can certainly make a compelling argument that the crime scene was staged to make it look like she did it. And that’s all I need to do for my show.”

There was a long pause as they stared at each other.

“She did the only thing she could to survive,” Natalie said. “She disappeared because there was no other way, not because she was guilty.”

“She couldn’t have done it alone.”

“She didn’t. I helped her.”

“And Emma?”

Natalie paused before answering. “No. Emma has no idea.”

Avery mulled this over and ran through the possibilities.

“Avery, I’m asking you not to do this. There will be very serious and real consequences if you tell people about this.”

“It would ruin your writing career, that’s for sure. You’d probably go to prison.”

“I don’t care about my career. It’s not mine to care about. It’s Victoria’s. I’m just a facilitator.”

“She writes the manuscripts, doesn’t she? Sends them to you and then you publish them under your name and brand.”

Natalie nodded. “It’s a collaboration, but yes.” She took a step closer to Avery. “But it’s not a writing career you’d be ruining. It’s a life. A new life, fought for and scratched for and obtained against all odds.”

“She’s in Greece, isn’t she? You helped her to somehow get to the island of Santorini. Your husband’s family owns a villa there. You see her every year to finish the new manuscript.”

Avery saw a look of confusion come over Natalie’s face as the twenty-year-old secret was laid before her.

“Please don’t expose what you know about Victoria. I’m begging you, Avery.”

Avery looked over at the desk and the manila envelope that held the photos of Walt Jenkins. She looked back at Natalie Ratcliff.

“Maybe there’s a way we can help each other.”

“How?”