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window to look at her, his eyes pleading.
“I swear I didn’t hurt her, Sadie,” he said, his tone begging. “You know I
couldn’t do anything like that.”
    “Why would you even be there?” she asked, forcing herself to
remain calm.
    “I went because . . . someone asked me to. I needed
to settle something for him.”
    “Who? Settle what?” she asked. This made no sense. It was as if
she’d woken up to a whole different world this morning. She wanted her old,
boring, rather predictable life back. She wanted to look forward to her kids
coming home one weekend every month, pull some weeds, and make more
applesauce—with ginger this time. She had a hair appointment on
Friday and was planning on getting blonde highlights. She wanted to think about
those things, not this. Not any of this.
    Ron groaned out loud. “I can’t tell you that, at least not yet.
I need to find out what happened after I left.” He shook his head. “She was so
mad.”
    “Mad about what?” Sadie said, her voice rising.
    “I can’t tell you yet.”
    Sadie blinked and felt anger raise her defenses. “You just told
the police I wanted a lawyer, now you’re telling me you were with Anne last
night and you won’t explain it to me? Do you really expect me to shrug this
off?”
    “I wasn’t with Anne,”
he said as if just now realizing the obvious implication. “I was just talking
to her, for a friend. I didn’t do anything inappropriate.”
    “Are you kidding me?” she said, taking another step backward,
wanting—needing—distance from him right now. “She’s
dead—you went to see her at night without telling me, you won’t
even tell me your reasons now, and . . .” She paused, her mind
clearing and allowing more thoughts inside. “You’re supposed to be in Denver.”
Did she even know this man at all? Looking at him now, at the emotions playing
across his face, was almost like looking at a stranger. She’d read things like
this in books before, but she’d never lived it. She worried she was being
overdramatic while at the same time wondering how else she could regard him
after hearing what he’d said during the last few minutes.
    Ron hurried toward her and though she tried to get out of his
way, she was walking backward and wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her arms again
but surprised her by pulling her into another embrace, as if that would somehow
change the way she was feeling.
    She stood stiff and unmoving, her arms at her side as she
stared at the window behind him. The warmth she usually felt when he held her
had disappeared. Everything was different.
    After a few seconds, he pulled back and looked at her with such
sorrow and regret that she felt tears overflowing in her eyes as tears formed
in his. “Give me an hour to get some answers,” he said in a quiet voice, his
tone begging for her to understand. “Then I’ll come back and tell you
everything I know.”
    Sadie blinked at him. Was
he serious? “You think you can come in here, drop these kinds of bombs
on me, and expect me to do nothing about them? A woman is dead, Ron, a person,
a mother—my friend. The police are considering me a
suspect—me! You obviously know something. Do you really expect
me to do nothing about that?”
    “No,” he said sadly, shaking his head as if accepting a reality
he’d hoped to avoid. “I don’t expect you to do nothing. I only ask that you
wait an hour, so I can give you answers.”
    “Give them to me now,” she demanded, wiping her eyes and
wishing she could stop the tears completely.
    “I don’t have them, or at least, not enough.” He looked at her
a long time, and she held his gaze. She thought she loved this man and yet
right now she was afraid of him and wondering how she could have misjudged him
so badly. What friend would need Ron to act as some kind of
go-between for Anne? Anne didn’t even know Ron’s friends—except
Jack. Ron and Jack worked together, but if Jack needed to talk to Anne, he’d do
it