On Friday afternoon, Tim was convicted of the kidnapping and murder of both Genevieve Russell and her infant, even though the baby’s body had not been found. The jury deliberated less than an hour. They didn’t believe a word out of his mouth. The sentencing was set for the following Tuesday and would determine if he’d receive life in prison or the death penalty.

The talking heads on CNN and Court TV and Larry King had a field day debating the merits of the case, trying to predict the outcome. Vivian Russell herself appeared on the Larry King show. Eve barely heard a thing she said because she was too absorbed in searching every delicate facet of her face for traces of Cory.

Vivian was furious. “He took my mother from me,” she said, thick tears lining her lower lashes. “My children’s grandmother from them. My father’s wife from him. It was calculated and cruel, and what makes it hardest is not knowing how…how she died.” Her chin quivered. “How he killed her,” she said. “If she suffered. It’s unbearable to think about, and yet I can’t stop thinking about it.”

People calling into the show were angry and impassioned. One man whose own wife had been abducted and murdered said, “He should fry, and I want to be there to cheer when he does.” That seemed to be the majority opinion of the callers. They were out for blood.

The night before Tim’s sentencing, Eve couldn’t still her mind. She lay awake listening to Jack’s light, even snoring, wondering if she should stay home the following day to watch the sentencing or go to work. Just forget she knew him. Forget she had anything to do with the charges against him. Forget that he was innocent of murder and that she was the only other person alive who knew that. She’d waited for someone to come forward who could clear him of that charge. She’d waited for Tim’s attorney to say something that would put reasonable doubt into the minds of the jurors. Neither had happened, and now she couldn’t sleep.

It was very warm for October. She got out of bed, pulled on her robe and limped outside in her slippers. She followed the stone pavers through the small backyard to the garden bench, where she sat down. The moonlight gave the trees and shrubs and vines an unearthly, ghostly look befitting her dark thoughts.

Leaning against the back of the wooden bench, she looked at the night sky fringed by the leafy greenery of her yard. I don’t want to lose this, she thought. I want to be able to sit here in my tiny yard and feel the air on my skin and see the sky above me filled with stars.

And what about Cory? What would the truth do to her? Tears welled up in Eve’s eyes, and a sudden, unexpected sob escaped her throat. Her physical pain, her day-to-day worries, paled next to the thought of hurting Cory. Cory would be torn apart. And Eve would lose the little bit of relationship she had left with her.

Then she thought of all Genevieve had lost. All the Russell family had lost. And what Tim, guilty though he was of many things, was about to lose over a crime he should not have to pay for.

What were her crimes? She ticked them off in her mind: Aiding and abetting in the kidnapping of Genevieve Russell; kidnapping Genevieve’s infant and crossing state lines with her; changing her identity solely to flee the law. Surely there were any number of smaller laws she’d broken as well. In her mind, though, one of the worst things she’d done was what she was doing right now—letting a man pay for a crime she knew he had not committed.

“Eve?”

She turned to see Jack standing on the small deck. He was wearing the white T-shirt he slept in and he’d pulled on his jeans.

He walked down the path and reached his hand toward her. “Come back to the house, Eve,” he said, the way someone might speak to a person about to jump from a ledge.

“I’m all right.” She smiled at him to prove it, to try to erase the lines of worry across his forehead. “I couldn’t sleep and it’s such a beautiful night I thought I’d sit out here a little.”

“Please come into the house, honey,” he said again. “I want to talk to you.”

His tone told her not to argue. She stood up and let him guide her into the house, where he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and motioned for her to take a seat.

She sat down. “I’m sorry if I woke you when I got up,” she said.

“You didn’t. I woke up on my own and saw you weren’t there, so I went looking for you.” He sat down himself. “I’m worried about you, Evie,” he said. “I’d like you to see a therapist.”

“I don’t need—”

“Hear me out,” he said. “Dru and I both agree on this.”

She squirmed at the thought of Jack and Dru having a discussion about her mental health.

“We both feel that this flare…this relapse of your RA…has taken a huge toll on you,” he said.

Oh, no. She felt guilty for allowing his sympathy to be so misplaced. Her tears started again.

“It’s all right.” He moved his chair up against hers so he could put his arms around her. “It makes sense, honey. You were doing so well healthwise for so long. It was almost as though you were in remission. Then this flare came along and you suddenly had to admit that you still have the disease. I know going back to the scooter was terrible for you. Like admitting defeat. I know you didn’t want to be seen riding it around the grounds and have everyone ask you what was wrong. I know the questions get to you.”

Leaning forward, she rested her head against his shoulder, glad to be able to hide her face from his eyes.

“I kept waiting for you to suggest a therapist on your own.” Jack rubbed her back. “You usually go when you have a problem. Then I remembered that the woman you used to go to—Janet? Was that her name?”

“Yes,” Eve whispered.

“I remembered she moved away and that you might not know who to go to. It’s hard when you’re a therapist yourself and have to find someone who…you know…who you won’t cross paths with professionally. But you really need to, Eve. I’ve never seen you like this. You’ve lost so much weight. You’re depressed, watching TV all the time. I don’t know what to do. How to help you. And Cory’s made it harder for you, cutting you out the way she has. She’ll come around. When she has a baby, she’s going to want her mommy.”

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you so much,” she said into his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “I’m here for you.”

She loved how he was rubbing her back, but she didn’t deserve his comfort and she sat up straight again.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” she asked.

He ran his hands down her arms, his love-filled eyes worried as they searched her face. Lying to him, keeping secrets from the man who had loved her for so many years, suddenly seemed like the greatest crime of all.