AFTER PETER LEFT FOR work Friday morning, I was on the verge of going for my wash when the key slid into the front door lock. Convinced Peter had returned, I paced back into the living room and sat, listening as the front door opened then closed.
When Sean walked in, I almost had a heart attack. “What are you doing here?” I jumped up, shoved him back out into the hall. “Peter has barely left. If he’s seen your car, he’ll be back through that door like a shot.”
“Jem—”
“You have to leave. Now!”
“Jem—”
“He knows your car. He’ll know it’s you, he’ll—”
“I didn’t come in my car, Jem.” He took my wrists, as I grabbed for the door handle. “I came in Ethan’s pickup, and I waited until he’d definitely gone before I came in. Please, stop worrying.”
“But ...” My eyes narrowed. “Where’s Poppy?”
