Chapter 1 - The Woman Behind the DoorGavin Mercer was laughing when the sound of tires on the private driveway erased the smile from his face.
He had been stretched across the massive bed in the master bedroom, one arm around Daphne Hale.
His wife’s mother.
Daphne’s head had been resting against his shoulder.
Neither of them heard Copper bark downstairs.
Neither expected anyone.
Marlowe was supposed to be in Chicago until tomorrow night.
Then an engine rolled beneath the bedroom window.
Gavin sat upright.
“What was that?”
Daphne pulled the sheet higher.
“Probably a delivery.”
Gavin crossed to the window.
A black SUV turned through the gate.
He recognized the dent near the rear passenger door.
His blood seemed to leave his face.
“Marlowe’s home.”
Daphne shot upright.
“What?”
“She’s home.”
“Didn’t she say she was coming back tomorrow?”
Gavin pointed toward the massive wardrobe.
“Get in there.”
Daphne stared at him.
“Gavin—”
“Now.”
She grabbed her blouse, slipped it on with trembling hands, and rushed across the carpet.
Gavin pulled open the wardrobe.
Daphne squeezed between his suits and Marlowe’s dresses.
He shut the doors.
Then he looked around.
A shoe near the bed.
Daphne’s.
He kicked it beneath the bed.
He straightened the comforter.
Buttoned his shirt.
Ran a hand through his hair.
By the time the front door opened downstairs, he was smiling.
“Marlowe?”
“Surprise!”
Her voice floated through the hall.
Copper’s nails clicked excitedly against the hardwood.
Gavin descended the staircase.
Marlowe stood inside the foyer, twenty-three years old, exhausted from travel, smiling as Copper circled her legs.
Gavin crossed the distance quickly.
“I missed you so much.”
He hugged her.
Marlowe laughed softly.
“I missed you too.”
For one dangerous second, Gavin closed his eyes.
Then he released her.
“You must be exhausted. Why don’t we go out for dinner?”
“Sure.”
His shoulders loosened.
Then Marlowe lifted her suitcase.
“Let me change first.”
The smile remained on Gavin’s face.
But something behind it broke.
“Marlowe, you don’t need to—”
“I’ve been wearing this since six this morning.”
She kissed his cheek and headed upstairs.
Copper followed.
Gavin stood motionless for half a second.
Then followed them.
Marlowe entered the bedroom.
Copper came behind her.
The dog abruptly slowed.
His ears lifted.
His nose moved.
He turned toward the wardrobe.
Then stopped directly in front of it.
His tail wagged.
“Copper?”
The golden retriever stared at the closed doors.
Bark.
Bark.
Bark.
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
“Copper! Get out.”
Copper glanced back.
His tail kept wagging.
Then he turned toward the wardrobe again.
Bark.
Bark.
Marlowe frowned.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing.”
Gavin stepped toward the dog.
“He probably saw something.”
“In the wardrobe?”
“Come on. Let’s eat.”
Copper pressed his nose toward the narrow gap between the doors.
His tail moved faster.
Marlowe looked at Copper.
Then at Gavin.
For the first time since coming home, she noticed how pale he was.
“Why are you sweating?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Marlowe.”
His voice sharpened.
Then softened immediately.
“Please. You’ve had a long day.”
She stared at him.
Copper barked again.
Marlowe walked toward the wardrobe.
Gavin stepped forward.
“Marlowe, wait—”
Her hand closed around the handle.
She opened the doors.
Daphne stood inside.
Her blouse was buttoned incorrectly.
Her hair was disheveled.
Her face had gone white.
Marlowe’s body stopped moving.
Her eyes locked onto the woman.
For a fraction of a second, recognition refused to arrive.
Then it did.
“MOM?!”
Daphne’s lips parted.
No sound came out.
Copper wagged his tail harder.
He had found the person he recognized.
Marlowe slowly turned.
Gavin stood behind her.
Frozen.
The room became unbearably quiet.
Marlowe looked from her husband to her mother.
Then to the bed.
A second pillow was dented.
A wineglass sat on Daphne’s side.
Her mother’s lipstick stained the rim.
The shock inside Marlowe changed.
It became understanding.
“No.”
Daphne stepped forward.
“Honey—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Marlowe, let me explain.”
Gavin reached toward her.
She backed away.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand stopped.
Marlowe looked at the wardrobe again.
At her mother.
At her husband.
Then she whispered the only question her mind could form.
“How long?”
Neither answered.
That silence hurt worse than an answer.
Marlowe grabbed Copper’s collar.
“Come on.”
Gavin blocked the doorway.
“Marlowe, please.”
“Move.”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Marlowe—”
“Move.”
Something in her voice made him step aside.
She walked downstairs with Copper.
Daphne appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Marlowe!”
Marlowe stopped.
She did not turn around.
Behind her, Daphne said, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Marlowe finally looked back.
Her eyes were wet.
“But it did.”
She walked out.
Copper followed.
Only after the front door slammed did Gavin turn toward Daphne.
“You said she wouldn’t be back.”
Daphne stared at him.
“You were the one checking her schedule.”
Neither noticed the tiny brass key that had fallen from Daphne’s purse onto the bedroom carpet.
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A key stamped with the name of the private bank that had managed Marlowe’s late father’s estate.
And the number 317.
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