The woman was still a block away, walking quickly toward them. Her blond hair was down, fluttering in the breeze. She wore a fitted gray business suit with a teal camisole beneath and carried a leather laptop case. Makeup made her pretty features striking, the perfect image of a Madison Avenue executive. Such a contrast to the pajama-clad, messy-bun-sporting woman they'd seen two days before. Jessica smiled as she entered the park and approached. "Sorry I'm late. I ran into an old friend. I didn't want to be rude."

Nate looked up from his phone and indicated a chair. "No problem. Thanks for meeting us."

Jessica sat. Marisa did too, though she'd have preferred to stand. Nate chose the third chair.

Jessica settled her bag on the round metal table. "I'm glad you caught me before I headed home. Lucky, I guess."

Lucky? Marisa allowed herself to believe it. She could use all the luck she could get.

"Definitely," Nate said. "And we think we've had another bit of luck." Nate pulled his notebook and pen out of his shirt pocket. "The other day, you told us your son—it's Hunter, right?"

Her smile faded. "What about him?"

"His soccer coach. You said the man had taken an interest in Hunter."

"Yeah. Well, not just Hunter, I think. He hangs out with other boys."

"Not just Hunter?"

"I think my son is his favorite." She glanced back and forth between Marisa and Nate. "What does Rick have to do with anything?"

Rick. Marisa swallowed the name, a morsel of truth in the mess that had become her life.

Rick was Leslie's fiancé's name.

Richard was Charles Gray's third son.

Despite what Nate had warned, her hopes soared.

"Did you ever meet Charles's kids?" Nate asked.

"Of course not." Jessica glanced at Marisa before settling her attention on Nate. "I mean, we would have done that, eventually. But when we were together, I was still, you know..."

Nobody finished her sentence. Jessica continued. "What does any of that have to do with..." Her eyes widened. "Wait. Are you saying...?"

Nate turned his phone so Jessica could see it. "Is that Rick?"

"That's him. Yes. Why?"

She asked the question, but the way her skin had faded to deathly pale told Marisa that Jessica already had an inkling of the answer.

Marisa leaned forward. "You didn't know?"

"What?" She looked back at Nate. "Who is that?"

"Richard Gray."

"No. No way. No." She looked up, shook her head, and swallowed. "No. It can't... Why in the world would he... Charles's son?" She looked back and forth between them. "I don't understand."

Marisa wasn't sure she did, either, now that they'd confirmed it.

Nate said, "Was he the coach before Hunter joined the team?"