“I’ve been indisposed,” I said, my voice steady despite the rage building inside me. “Vincent, I need your help, and I need discretion.”
“You have both. My office. One hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
I bought a cheap prepaid phone with cash I kept hidden in a compartment of my purse—emergency money Nicholas had insisted we both carry after getting stranded with a flat tire years ago. I also purchased a bottle of water and a sandwich I had no appetite for. Ray refused to take my money.
“On the house, Naomi. You need anything else, you just ask.”
His kindness nearly broke me. Nearly. But I hadn’t cried when they lowered Nicholas into the ground, and I wouldn’t cry now.
Vincent’s law office occupies the second floor of a Victorian on Main Street, above a stationery store and across from the town hall where we’d attended more than one zoning meeting about agricultural land use. When his secretary saw me, her eyes widened.
