Nathan.
His wife.
Melissa.
Nine years ago.
It all connected.
“How close was she to testifying?”
“Very.”
Rebecca whispered, “She died before trial.”
Marcus was silent.
Then he said, “Three days before a scheduled deposition.”
My chair scraped backward.
Ben reached for me.
I pushed away from the table and walked to the window.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“No.”
I stared into the darkness outside.
Melissa’s funeral returned in fragments.
Rain.
Umbrellas.
Two six-year-old girls holding my hands.
A closed casket.
A police officer telling us road conditions had been dangerous.
Linda had been at that funeral.
I suddenly remembered.
Not Linda.
Not exactly.
A woman.
A stranger standing near the back.
Dark glasses.
A cream-colored coat.
I had noticed her because she did not approach the family.
At the time I assumed she was from Melissa’s work.
My pulse accelerated.
I turned.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Find photographs of Linda from nine years ago.”
