“She was a friend of my sister’s.”

  “They weren’t that close, and it’s been so many years since…”

  “Since Rachel disappeared,” he fills in for her when she trails off. “Yeah, I know.”

  He checks his watch again and says, “You said you had questions for me. What are they? Because I’ve got to make a flight in about eighty minutes, so…”

  “I’m sorry. I just wondered if you ever heard anything more. About Rachel.”

  It sounds so lame, phrased that way.

  Apparently he agrees, because his eyes darken and he returns, “No, have you?”

  “Me? No! I just thought maybe your family…”

  “I haven’t talked to Elise since she got married again and moved to San Diego. That was a few years ago.”

  Elise is Rachel’s mother, who was married to Isaac’s father for a few years. Brynn met her only after Rachel vanished, when she was distraught and fragile, so she has no real way of judging her personality.

  “Would she have told you if Rachel turned up?”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” Isaac admits with surprising candor, looking down at the table, pushing the salt shaker around with his index finger. “But then I remind myself that if Rachel came back, she probably wouldn’t know where to find her mother. She might not even know that her father died. But I’m still in the same apartment I had ten years ago. It’s why I keep it.”

  “So you don’t believe she’s dead, either?”

  He looks up sharply.

  Either.

  The word just slipped out.

  Brynn backpedals, feebly. “I mean, it’s not that I think she’s alive for sure, you know, but I’ve always hoped…”

  Isaac is watching her intently, as though he’s wondering if she knows something he doesn’t know.

  And, Brynn realizes uneasily, as thoughhe knows somethingshe doesn’t.

  Having crossed through Newton and reached Interstate 95 on its western loop around Boston, Cassie heads north. If she were going home, she’d pick up the westbound Mass Pike a few exits up. From there, it’s about two and a half hours home to Danbury.

  But, apparently, she isn’t going home.

  Alec has probably been trying to call her ever since she hung up on him, but of course, she doesn’t have to listen to her phone ring…

  Because I threw it out the window.

  God, that felt good.

  Her only regret is that now she can’t tell Alec right away that she’s made up her mind to call off the wedding next month.

  She’s come to realize that anything—even hurting Alec—is better than going ahead with their plans as though nothing has changed.

  Everything has changed, these past few weeks.She’s changed—on the inside, anyway.

  Now you just have to find the nerve to change the outside.

  Since Rachel’s birthday and Tildy’s death, she’s spent a lot of time, too much time, looking back. In the process, she’s seen her life for what it really is: testimony to someone else’s dreams, first her parents’, and now, Alec’s.

  Maybe she’d be soul-searching anyway, on the cusp of thirty.

  Maybe she’d be dredging up the past, examining every misstep that led her to where she is now.

  Faced with the constant, overwhelming reminder of her own mortality…

  She simply can’t go home now.

  Maybe not ever.

  You tried to run away already, and you couldn’t go through with it,she reminds herself.You would have gone home eventually even if you hadn’t found out about Tildy that morning.

  But this time, there can be no turning back, even if she changes her mind.

  Not after what happened to Tildy, and with her own birthday looming tomorrow.

  Cold fingers of fear clutch at her as she boldly bypasses the exit for the Mass Pike.

  She keeps a close eye on the rearview mirror to make sure she isn’t being followed.

  It’s hard to tell.

  She picks up speed, changing lanes a few times. Then, driving in the right, she impulsively veers off a Lexington exit at the last minute, without signaling, just in case…

  But no other car follows her down the ramp.

  And no other car follows her as she drives a little ways down the road, just to be sure. Satisfied she’s on her own, she pulls into the first bank she sees and uses an ATM to make a maximum withdrawal from her checking account. There. That will tide her over for awhile, at least.

  After consulting a road map, she follows a meandering route back up to I-95. Still, there isn’t a suspicious car on the road behind her.

  Back on the interstate, Cassie continues north, uncertain where she’s headed.

  She only knows that she isn’t being followed. Without her cell phone, no one can possibly reach her; by using only cash, no one will be able to trace her.

  This time, she has to get away to a place that’s much farther from home.

  A place where no one will ever find her.

  Not her parents, not Alec…

  Not the silent, invisible stalker whose presence seems to dog her every move.

  This is, by far, the hardest part: the waiting.

  Knowing that you have to get through another night, and part of another day, before you can accomplish the monumental task ahead.

  Keeping up a cool demeanor, going about your business as though this was any other Saturday afternoon, making sure no one would ever in their wildest dreams guess what’s going on in your head.

  So far, so good.

  The party supplies are tucked away; the gift-wrapped box is ready. Inside it is a special memento selected for the occasion. Cassandra won’t have the chance to open it, of course, but that’s all right.

  She doesn’t need a reminder.

  She knows what she did.

  Is she wondering, even now, if she’s going to die tomorrow?

  Does she realize that it’s only fair?

  That’s the tricky part.

  If she suspects, she might try to get away.

  Go ahead, Cassie. You can run from me.

  And you probably think you can hide, too.

  Maybe you really can…

  From the rest of the world…

  But what you don’t realize is that you can never hide from me.

  CHAPTER 16

  For Brynn, Sunday morning dawns just as the others have: with a tide of nausea that propels her straight to the bathroom.

  Already weary of the routine only one week in, she brushes her teeth and wonders how she’s possibly going to keep her pregnancy from Garth when she gets home.

  He might not wake up in their bed every morning, but he’s bound to notice her morning sickness. The walls are thin and the house is small.

  The same thing is true of this one.

  So she shouldn’t be surprised to step out of the bathroom and find her stepmother standing there wearing her jogging clothes and a knowing expression.

  Brynn’s heart sinks.

  “You’re pregnant,” Sue whispers. “I thought I heard you getting sick yesterday morning, too, but I figured you might have eaten something that disagreed with you.”

  Brynn considers, then dismisses, the notion of going along with that theory. She was obviously fine last night. Her father treated the whole family, including two of her brothers and their wives and kids, to dinner at a seafood place followed by a visit to Cold Stone Creamery.

  Maybe she was eating from nerves—seeing Isaac really was unsettling. Or maybe she was merely eating because she was starved, and the nausea had finally worn off.

  But everyone joked about the way she devoured twin lobster tails and a gigantic waffle cone heaping with Pecan and Cream Passion.

  “Please don’t say anything to Daddy,” she tells Sue, realizing she might as well admit the truth. She’ll find out sooner or later anyway. “And don’t mention it to the boys, either. I haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “Not even Garth?”

  She shakes her head. “It wasn’t planned. I was on the pill. I can’t believe this happened…I never missed one.” She’s talking more to herself than to Sue.

  But her stepmother asks, with the efficiency of the OBGYN nurse practitioner she once was, “Have you been on antibiotics lately?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because they can interfere with the pill’s effectiveness.”

  “Well, I haven’t—” Brynn stops short. Oh, yes, she has.

  She was on antibiotics right before school started, when she and Caleb both had strep throat.

  That explains it.

  “The doctor should warn people about that.” She shakes her head in disbelief.

  “I’m sure there are warnings in the pamphlet that comes with the pill packet. And most pharmacists print out drug interaction information when they hand over prescriptions, too.”

  Irked by Sue’s implication that Brynn could have avoided this situation had she been paying closer attention, even if it’s probably true, she says defensively, “Well, nobody bothered to give me that information.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re looking forward to a new baby, and Garth will be, too, when you tell him. When are you going to do that?”

  None of your business,Brynn thinks, further irritated.

  “Waiting for the right moment again, huh?” Sue smiles. “I remember that Father’s Day when you—”

  “No, it’s not like that,” Brynn cuts in brusquely. “I just…Listen, Sue, no offense, but this is really a personal matter and I definitely don’t feel comfortable talking about it right now with you.”

  She didn’t mean to put emphasis on the last word, but somehow, it comes out that way.

  Withyou .

  It comes out sounding as though Brynn would prefer to discuss her pregnancy with just about anyone else in the world.

  Which, come to think of it, is almost true.

  Yet, seeing the flicker of hurt in Sue’s eyes, Brynn fends off remorse.

  “Point taken. And I won’t say anything to anyone until you give me the green light,” Sue promises quietly. Then she adds, looking Brynn pointedly in the eye, “You might not like me, but you can trust me.”

  Brynn watches her stride down the hall and disappear into the kitchen.

  I should probably go try to explain,she thinks guiltily.

  She starts after her stepmother, with no idea what she’ll say—only that she doesn’t want Sue to think she doesn’t like her…

  Even if it’s true?

  Well, she can’t deny that Sue has really stepped up for Brynn and the boys this weekend. Daddy is getting older, and tired. He eagerly took them to the basement, where they have always loved to play with Brynn’s brothers’ childhood train set, but he was wiped out in no time and had to take a nap. It was Sue who crawled around on the floor with the kids, and made them peanut butter sandwiches without the crusts when they were hungry before bed, and played endless rounds of Candyland so that each boy could win twice.

  I don’t have to like her…But I don’t have to hurt her, either,Brynn thinks as she steps into the kitchen to make amends.

  But she’s just in time to see the back door close as Sue leaves the house.

  Opening her eyes on Sunday morning, Fiona finds herself facing a wall of windows looking out over a breathtaking mountain tapestry bathed in golden sunlight.

  Her lips curve into a smile as she realizes exactly where she is.

  Turning her head, she sees James lying beside her, tangled in the sheets, sound asleep.

  She waits for the inevitable morning-after pang of regret…

  But it doesn’t come.

  Everything about last night felt right.

  She impulsively called him from her car as she headed back home from Boston after the funeral, thinking she should make up some professional reason to speak to him. It still hadn’t come to her by the time he answered the phone, so she figured she’d wing it.

  He sounded glad to hear from her.

  “When are you coming back to town?” he asked.

  “Right now.”

  “Really. What are you doing when you get here?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Come over.”

  She laughed. “Is that an order?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  At last, she got to lay eyes on the fabled “cottage”—a three-story stone structure rambling along a majestic overlook. What a far cry from the cabin she still owns with Pat, not far from here.

  “What do you think?” James asked.

  That I could definitely see myself living here.

  But, of course, she didn’t say that.

  James grilled chicken and vegetables on a grill that cost more than the sum total of every appliance in Fiona’s kitchen at home. He opened a bottle of wine, a rare vintage. And he kissed her on the moonlit terrace with the lights of Cedar Crest twinkling far below.

  She didn’t want to leave.

  Ever.

  And he didn’t want her to leave—at least, not last night.

  Now, checking her watch—the only thing she’s still wearing—Fiona realizes that her fantasy interlude is about to skid to a crashing halt.

  She’ll have to scramble if she’s going to make it home before Pat drops off Ashley.

  She considers calling to tell him she can’t be there—she can say she’s still hung up in Boston. He assumed she was spending the night there anyway, consoling Tildy’s family or something.

  She turns to look at James again.

  No, she should go.

  Now,before she inadvertently says or does something to ruin this budding dream-come-true.

  Back in her room, Brynn climbs into bed, determined to catch a little more sleep.

  But the guilt has followed her.

  She doesn’t want to feel bad about Sue; life would be easier if she was immune to any feelings at all for her stepmother, good or bad…

  But lately, especially, good.

  It isn’t easy to maintain resentment for someone who treats Caleb and Jeremy—and, all right, Brynn’s father, too—so well.

  Still…

  If my mother were standing here, instead of her, I’d be pouring my heart out about this pregnancy.