*Met Rose today at the diner on Route 9,* the entry read. *She has the most striking blue eyes. Just like the ones I’ve always imagined.*

My breath hitched.

Claire had those exact same blue eyes.

“Evelyn, are you still there?” Rose asked.

I picked up the phone, my fingers trembling. “I’m here.”

“I’m driving to your house now,” Rose said. “I’m going to park down the street.”

“No, you can’t come here,” I said. “Richard might come back.”

“He won’t be back for at least an hour,” Rose said. “I saw his car head toward the interstate. He always goes to the office in the city when he’s angry.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“Because I’ve been watching him, Evelyn,” Rose said. “For years.”

The phone line went quiet for a moment.

“I’m pulling up now,” she said.

I stood up from the desk, leaving the files scattered across the leather surface.

I walked to the window and parted the wooden blinds.

A faded blue sedan was idling at the curb three houses down.

The driver’s side door opened, and Rose stepped out.