He stepped out of the truck and inhaled the crisp scent of approaching rain. The sun would set in a few minutes, though with the low blanket of clouds, there was no colorful show.

In front of the house next door, four boys—maybe eight or nine years old—played a two-on-two game of soccer. They were using a minivan parked in the far driveway for one goal, and, if he had to guess, two trees on the other edge of the property for another. Their shouts and laughter filled the evening air.

Nate walked around to open Marisa's door. Unlike most women, she'd waited until he got there. He wondered if Vinnie Depalo had displayed good manners. He hoped so—Marisa deserved to be treated like a lady.

She stood beside him and sniffed.

Nate wiped an errant tear from her cheek. She'd managed to pull herself together, though he'd noticed her wiping tears on and off during the traffic-laden drive. "You okay?"

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I have to be, don't I?"

He took her hand, and they walked up the concrete sidewalk to the house. He rang the doorbell, and they heard the muffled chime from inside.

A woman's voice called, "Just leave it on the porch."

He looked at Marisa, who shrugged. He knocked.

"I said leave it on the porch!"

He called, "I'm not the pizza guy."

A moment later, the door opened. On the other side stood a woman who looked nothing like the person Marisa had described. She wore pink and black fleece pajama pants and a black sweatshirt. Her blond hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she had a pair of glasses pushed up, holding back escaping strands. She wore no makeup. When he looked past the outfit, though, he could see that this Jessica English was a beautiful woman. High cheekbones, dark blue eyes, well-shaped lips.

Still, he doubted this was the right person. She seemed nothing like the sophisticated New Yorker Marisa had described.

She eyed them and said, "Can I help you?"

"We'd like to speak with you," he said.

"What about?"

"Charles Gray."

She stared silently, and he might have believed he'd been right about having the wrong woman, if not for the slight narrowing of her eyes. After a couple of beats, she said, "What about him?"

"May we come in?"

She stepped outside, looked at the boys next door, and peered in the other direction. Was she afraid they'd been followed? He'd found her address online, so surely she hadn't been trying to hide.

She looked at her wrist as if checking the time, though there was no watch there. "I have a lot of work to do."

"We won't take up much of your time," Nate said.

Marisa added, "It's very important we speak to you."

She sighed. "Fine. Come in."