I assumed my father had regrets. No one who’d lived the life he had—affairs, divorces, shady business practices—could avoid them. But the way he talked, one could deposit those feelings in trash bags and bury them. For me, that was impossible. “I’ve tried.”

“Try harder. Put it in a lockbox in your brain and push it into a dark corner forever.” He sighed long and hard, an orchestra of parental helplessness. “Do you think the dreams started again for a reason?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him the nightmare had never really stopped, that it had always lurked in the background. In it, a tiger loomed over me, pinning me down with its body as it swiped at my torso and arms. It wasn’t frantic about it; it was almost calm. The claws were dripping blood, but when I looked closely, they didn’t look like claws at all, but gleaming knives.

I’d stopped talking about it years ago because my father had sent me to a variety of behavioral therapists, all of whom tried to cordon off my brain from the trauma I’d suffered when I was three and a half.

“Teddy is always asking to go to the zoo,” I said cautiously.

“You don’t need to be fearful for Teddy. He’s not going to get into any animal’s cage these days.”

My father usually avoided talking about my accident; I jumped at the opportunity to discuss it more directly. “Do you remember exactly how it happened to me at the Berlin Zoo?”

“It was your mother’s fault,” he answered quickly. “I wasn’t even there that day. When I saw you, it was at the hospital. It was awful. I should never have let your mother take you to the zoo. She was deranged. She probably put you in there to bond with the tiger.”

I heard a terrible echo in my head at that moment. My father had said similar words about my mother many times. It was as if he didn’t realize that would make me wonder if I’d inherited some mental defect from her.

There was an uneasy silence between us. “I should go,” I said finally.

“Shall we have dinner together later?” he suggested, as if we were one big, happy family. “We need to spend more time together, now that Caroline’s gone.”

“I have work to do.”

I didn’t add that I didn’t want to spend time with him because I knew he was lying to me. Juliet lied too; so did Ursula. I’d thought I could trust Caroline, but I’d been wrong. In my entire family, there was no one I could count on to tell me the truth.

CHAPTER 18

DEIRDRE

Jude’s city hall office was only two express stops away from Grand Central. I took the 4 train north and exited the subway, heading east on Forty-Second Street. A massive sign with the words TUDOR CITY in bold letters sat in the sky near First Avenue. Almost twenty-five years in New York—my entire existence—and I couldn’t understand how I’d missed it before.

I found a stone staircase on the block between Second and First Avenues, and I headed up. The development hovered a block above the rest of Midtown, and while that didn’t sound like much distance, it felt serene when I clambered to the top. There was a small park to my left and another to my right, across the viaduct that bridged Forty-Second Street. Ben’s building was right in front of me, its towering beauty hidden by massive scaffolding. The top floors were visible, with white stonework dramatically edging the red brick. It was clearly a stunner. On my way in I checked out the stained glass around the arched doorway and the polished suit of armor lurking just inside. Tudor City was committed to its theme; I had to give it that.

“I’m visiting Ben Northcutt in 13G,” I told the uniformed doorman. He was wearing a surgical mask, which wasn’t that common anymore in Manhattan, though you still saw a lot of them in Queens and the Bronx.

“Your name?”

“Deirdre Crawley.”

I waited while he called upstairs, muttering my name into the receiver. “Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.” He hung up. “Mr. Northcutt isn’t available right now.”

“Excuse me?” I’d rushed over, desperate to talk to Ben. I hadn’t expected to find the door slammed in my face.

“Sorry, miss, he’s busy.”

I wandered outside, unsure what to do next. Reagan often joked about my failure to pass the marshmallow test, but she wasn’t wrong. I was an impatient person who would happily take one marshmallow that instant instead of two in twenty minutes’ time. I crossed the street and stood in front of the little park. I tried leaning against its wrought-iron fence, but that was uncomfortable. I checked my messages and waited. I had no guarantee that Ben would appear, but I had literally nothing better to do.

Half an hour later, his sandy head popped out the front door. He really did look like his author photo.

“Ben!” I called.

His head swiveled in my direction. He frowned.

“I’m Deirdre,” I said. “Caroline’s sister. I wanted to meet you.”

“Hey,” he said, coming toward me. “I was going to reach out later tonight. I wish we could talk now, but I’ve got to meet with someone.” He glanced at his watch. “Could we talk tomorrow?”

“Sure. I just—”

“Great. I’ll text you.” He started moving away, down the steps. I realized he didn’t even have my number. He was blowing me off.

“Was Caro meeting you the morning she died?” I yelled after him.

He stopped suddenly and turned. “Don’t.”

“I need to know. Was that why she came here? Because she was seeing you?”

He trotted up the steps so we were face-to-face again, glancing to either side, even though the street was empty. “Keep your voice down.”

“I talked to the police this morning. They need to know Caro was coming here to meet you.”

“How does that matter?” He sounded exasperated.

I lowered my voice. “My sister sent me a message saying her husband was going to kill her. She wrote it before she went out, the morning she died. On the day of her funeral, I confronted Theo, and he told me Caro was seeing someone else. Clearly, he meant you.” We stared at each other. “You need to tell the police about it. It changes things. It gives Theo a motive to hurt Caro.”

“I know Theo’s responsible for her death,” Ben said. “But it’s not that simple. I can’t talk to the police.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“How much did Caroline tell you about what she was doing?”

I didn’t understand the question. “Meaning what?”

Ben shook his head. “I know your sister loved you, but I don’t think she told you what was really going on. I don’t need a loose cannon blowing shit up.”

“You can either tell me what you mean, or you can tell the police. I’m not keeping secrets about the affair you two were having. If that’s why Theo killed her, the cops need to know.”

Ben leaned forward, so close I could smell spearmint on his breath. “What Caroline was doing was illegal. You want to make that fact public and burn down your sister’s reputation? Go ahead. But that’s on you. You should think about what she wanted, not what you want.”

He turned and rushed down the steps, leaving me speechless. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I was afraid to find out.

CHAPTER 19

THEO

When I walked out of my father’s suite, I thought I was done with my visit to Thraxton International. But an invisible cord pulled me toward Caroline’s office.

I hadn’t been there since I’d left the company, more than two years earlier. Caroline’s domain hadn’t changed. The walls were a calming blue, and the furnishings were nineteenth-century vintage and in perfect condition. The desk was elaborately carved mahogany with snarling lion faces and clawed feet; it had a dozen drawers, each marked with a different carved flower. There was an elaborate teak cabinet and a glass-fronted bookcase, and a curious Victorian sofa, reupholstered in white satin, with two plush seats facing away from each other. It felt like a perfect metaphor for my wife: everything under lock and key, and nothing ever confronted directly.

I was staring at photographs when I heard a sound from the doorway. I turned and saw Hugo Laraya watching me. He was the first friend I’d made in law school and still the best. My father, always swift to appraise a person’s value, snapped Hugo up immediately when he graduated, placing him at the white-shoe New York firm that Thraxton International kept on retainer. I couldn’t blame Hugo for taking the job, but it had put up a wall between us, especially after I left the company.

“They told me you were skulking around in here,” Hugo said.

“I’m sure my family has every security camera in the building trained on me.”

“C’mon, Theo. You wouldn’t believe how often your dad says he wishes you’d come back to work here.”