Monday, August 13, 2018, 10:40 p.m.

N

ora gazed out the window at the night. The wind had died down, the stifling humidity was no doubt rising. Crickets screeched. Moonlight flickered starkly through the heavy leaves of trees. But inside, the air was light, gentle, scented like bubble bath. Sophie lay asleep on her back with limbs splayed, her hair sprawling in a curly halo. Ellie curled herself into a tight ball, a fetal position. In sleep, both their faces were soft and
angelic.

Nora wandered out of their room. Where was Dave? She descended the stairs, escaped to the kitchen, and reheated a cup of the morning’s coffee. Maybe she should call him. It was her right, after all, to know what he was doing and whether he was okay. But she didn’t call. She trusted him, didn’t want to be “that wife” checking up on her husband. So she waited, keeping busy to make time pass. She straightened up the playroom, ran a load of laundry. She checked the clock, stared at her phone, scolded it for not ringing. Picked it up and absently scrolled through mail, opening nothing.

Where were they? What were they doing? It’s happening faster than we thought. She and the boys will go this week. Probably they were moving clothes or buying furniture for a new place. Or signing a lease.

At this hour?

Yes, at this hour. Dave wouldn’t lie to her.

She ought to go to bed. Read, watch television, doze off. When she woke up in the morning, Dave would be there, beside her. It was a good plan. Except that, as she started up the stairs, the doorbell rang.

Dave. He must have lost his key. She hurried to the door but stopped, her hand on the knob. What if it wasn’t Dave? What if something terrible had happened and a stranger—a police detective—was outside, coming to inform her.

Oh God.

She braced herself against the doorpost. Took a breath. Opened the door.

It wasn’t a detective. “You’re home.”

Nora’s mouth opened, but she made no sound.

“Sorry to alarm you.” Paul cleared his throat. “I’m not sure you remember me. We’ve met, but it’s been a while. Paul Ellis.” He extended his hand. “Barbara’s my better half.”

Nora’s hand rose, weightless, to shake. His grip was practiced and firm. His smile was tight.

“Of course I remember you.” She smiled just as tightly. What was he doing there? What did he want?

“Sorry to intrude at this late hour. But I’m looking for my wife. I haven’t been able to reach her. I would have called but, though I know where you live, I don’t have your cell number. Actually, would you mind sharing it with me? For situations like this…”

Paul certainly wasted no time on amenities. His brashness surprised her. Did he always behave this way, practically ordering others around, demanding what he wanted? And was she really supposed to give a man who beat his wife her phone number? Uh, no.

“Of course.” Nora recited her number, reversing two digits.

“Excuse my abruptness,” Paul continued while he punched the wrong number into his phone, “but where is she?” He peered over Nora’s shoulder into the house. “Is she here? Inside?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Barbara? Here?” Nora’s face burned. Why was she blushing? She took a step back.

“Yes. Her note said she was spending the evening with you. Something about a girls’ night.”

Wait, she’d left him a note using Nora as her cover? Well, hell. Why hadn’t Barbara or Dave clued her in? Now she’d blown it.

Paul watched her. Tall, fair-haired and elegant, his features were perfectly symmetrical except for that one eyebrow that was still raised. No one would suspect him of violence.

Nora’s smile was still pasted across her face when Paul reached for her arm and guided her into her own home. As he closed the door, Nora glimpsed a couple walking their dog around the cul-de-sac. She had the urge to call out to them but stifled it, not sure what to say.