We had a safe in the back of the coat closet. Fireproof, heavy, bolted into the floor. Lucas kept passports there, insurance documents, property papers, birth certificates. I hadn’t opened it in months.
“What’s in my safe?”
“That depends on what he removed.”
I swallowed.
“Removed?”
“Lucas was at your house yesterday afternoon while you were at the dentist.”
I said nothing.
I had gone to the dentist at two. Lucas had told me he was at the office tying up loose ends before his so-called international transfer.
“He left with a folder,” Grace said. “Blue. Legal size.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was parked outside.”
The anger returned, but now it had nowhere clean to land.
“You were stalking my husband.”
“I was trying to understand what he was doing.”
“Why?”
“Because my sister is Melanie Harper.”
That name dropped between us like glass breaking.
For a few seconds, I could not speak.
