She eyes the clock on the wall. It’s 8:53 am—Caroline will be here in half an hour. Gina can’t wait to catch up with her friend. It’s been too long.
Caroline will have questions for Gina. She’ll want to know how Gina is feeling, of course—but mostly she’ll want to strategize, to go over the data in a neutral, objective way. Caroline will argue that there is only one tangible piece of evidence pointing to Bobby’s guilt: the email. But it isn’t a reliable document, she’ll say. His account was hacked, after all. Without the email, all Gina has to go on is another woman’s word. Eva claims to have had an affair with Bobby. Bobby insists it never happened.
In the end, it all comes down to one question: who should Gina believe: a stranger or her husband of fifteen years? The answer seems obvious.
Caroline was surprised when Gina didn’t take Bobby back as soon as news of the hack came out. So many of her friends were—Holly, Kailey, Sarah. And Tish. They’d expected Gina to run over to Nick’s house and throw herself into Bobby’s arms. But Gina had been too scared—is still too scared—to make a definitive move. What if there’s something else around the corner? The possible pregnancy haunts her: what if Eva Stone really is carrying Bobby’s baby? Maybe that’s the reason behind her radio silence—now that Bobby is going to be the father of Eva’s child, she might not want to go around badmouthing him to the world, calling him a sexual predator.
Gina shakes her head to dispel the thoughts. This is why she needs Caroline. Caroline won’t let her spiral over unsubstantiated rumors.
Gina is sipping her tea when she hears a car pulling up. Hope soars in her chest. Maybe Caroline’s flight got in early, and she’s hurried over to surprise Gina. Gina rushes to open the front door.
The clicks of the camera take her by surprise. One, two, three—like tiny gunshots in a sequence. The man is inside a car, his face hidden by the oversized lenses that are aimed in her direction. Gina expects him to put the camera down. He must be in the wrong place—why on earth would anyone want a picture of her? But he keeps snapping away. Gina feels the heat rising in her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” Gina rushes to cover her face with her hands.
But the man doesn’t answer. He speeds away in his car, a gray Honda Civic.
Gina is left stumped, standing outside her door, heart hammering inside her chest. Around her, Backer Street is still, quiet.
Back inside, Gina locks the door. A first: no one locks their doors in Alma. It’s a point of pride, the safety of their town. She heads further inside the house to the dining room, where the curtains are drawn shut. Gina paces the green area rug. Her eyes brim with tears of confusion and humiliation. Questions rattle in her skull. Who was that man? Why did he want her picture? And why did he run off like that? Panic unfurls in her chest, a sensation that has become too familiar over the past few weeks. Obviously, this is about Eva Stone. Everything in her life is now about Eva Stone.
And it needs to stop.
She fishes inside her robe’s pocket for her phone. Bobby, she needs Bobby. He’ll know what to do.
Voicemail. That’s odd—Bobby’s phone is never off.
She calls his desk. Ingrid picks up.
“Hi, Ingrid,” Gina says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Is he in?”
“Hi, Mrs. Dewar.” Ingrid’s voice is bright and efficient. “No, his flight doesn’t land for another hour or so.”
“Flight?” Gina asks, looking up. Her gaze lands on the family portrait on the wall, specifically on Bobby’s kind, earnest face.
A pause from Ingrid. Gina can hear her regretting her words.
“Ingrid, what flight?” Gina insists. She doesn’t care if she sounds angry or desperate or anything else. She needs to talk to Bobby. A man was just at their house taking pictures of her for goodness’ sake!
“To Florida?” Ingrid says, her tone soft. “He went this morning on a personal matter.”
Gina feels her skin prickle. Her eyes are still on the painted Bobby. In the background, she can hear the ticking of the grandfather clock that had belonged to Lilian Dewar—a gift from Tish on their tenth wedding anniversary.
“When will he be back?” Gina asks.
“He’s only gone for the day. His flight lands in La Guardia at 9:45 p.m.” There’s a quivering in her tone, like she’s afraid she’ll get into trouble. Gina makes a mental note to send Ingrid an extra nice gift this Christmas. Bobby can’t lose another assistant to burnout. “Would you like me to give him a message?”
Gina is about to say yes when a thought pops in her mind. “Where in Florida?” she asks.
“Tallahassee,” Ingrid says.
Gina feels like she’s been smacked across the face.
“Mrs. Dewar?” Ingrid asks, on the other end of the line. “Would you like to leave a message?”
But Gina doesn’t answer. She can’t—she has no words left.
Tallahassee. That’s where Eva Stone is from.
Thirty-Two
Malaika
Tuesday, October 15th
Malaika is sitting cross-legged on her bed, working on sketches under her bedroom’s bright lights. She’s deep in concentration, her pencil moving furiously across the buttery paper. When her cell phone rings, she jumps, startled. Ann—Au Pair Agency, flashes on the screen. Except it isn’t Ann—there is no Ann. She’d saved Andy’s contact under a fake name in case he ever called when Calan was around.
“I have another job,” Andy says, after she picks up. She pictures him holding his phone against his ear, a crooked smile spreading on his face. “And it pays more.”
Malaika feels her heart do a little somersault. “Great! When?” She mentally checks her calendar. She’s already taking time off on Thursday to hang out with Calan, but maybe Alice won’t mind giving her a full day on the weekend?
“There’s a catch.” Andy hesitates. Malaika can hear him hold his breath. “This
