The phone in my purse suddenly vibrated, the sharp buzz cutting through the quiet booth.

I reached in with trembling fingers and pulled it out.

The screen lit up with a text message from Richard.

*I hope you’re having a productive lunch, honey. I’ll see you at home.*

I stared at the screen, the blue light reflecting on my face.

I slid the phone back into my purse, my fingers numb against the leather.

The screen went dark, but the image of his message seemed burned into my retinas.

“He knows you’re here,” Rose said.

She was watching me, her hands clasped tightly around her mug of lukewarm coffee.

“He doesn’t know,” I said, though my voice sounded thin and hollow, even to me. “He thinks I’m shopping.”

“Richard always knows,” Rose said.

She leaned back against the red vinyl of the booth, her shoulders dropping as if a great weight had finally settled on them.

“He didn’t just stand there with the administrator, Evelyn,” she continued. “He was directing them.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.