me to hear a person behind the warning.
“I know the difference between a complicated marriage and a story designed to make one person look unreasonable,” she said. “Lucas’s story was too clean.”
I stayed there on the floor for a long moment, my knees tucked beneath me, the phone warm against my ear.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“I want you to meet me.”
“No.”
“Anne—”
“No. You’ve been watching my house, tracking my husband, texting me cryptic warnings. I’m not meeting you anywhere.”
“Fair.”
That took some of the force out of me.
“Fair?”
“Yes. That’s fair.”
I heard papers rustle on her end.
“I’ll email you what I have. Flight details. Lease records. Screenshots. Messages Melanie showed me before she cut me off. Some financial information, though not enough.”
“How did you get my email?”
“Lucas gave it to Melanie.”
I closed my eyes.
