Why would Angelo have an envelope full of pictures of Matteo? Who was the woman? Was she the love letter woman? Questions bombarded me like rays of sun in a desert where life-giving answers were as hard to find as shimmering pools of water. Shaking my head, I returned all but one of the photos, placing the single picture in my back pocket. I closed the drawer and turned off the light, exiting the room as if I’d never been there. I held my gun behind my back to avoid suspicion, should I run into anyone on the way down, and hurried back to our bedroom downstairs. Still no sign of Matteo, I returned my gun to my purse and jumped in the shower, using a heavy stream of cool water to clear my thoughts. I had no question my husband was hiding something, but what? I had secrets of my own, so I cou
