That was the moment I first saw the email. You have a private message from Caroline Crawley.

My sister had been Caroline Thraxton since her wedding day. The sight of her birth name made the message seem like something out of time, a digital relic of a person who’d vanished four years ago.

When I clicked on it, the screen turned parchment yellow. Osiris’s Vault keeps all your data safe and secure, read the text at the top of the screen. Caroline Crawley wants you to read this letter.

There was an image of Osiris, the green-faced Egyptian god who was hacked to bits by his brother and reassembled by his sister. Mythology had been my thing as a kid, and I still loved it. Caro liked to tease me about the tattoo of an ankh—the Egyptian key of life—on my shoulder. Was this a sick joke? I scrolled down.

Written above a text box were the words Caroline’s message to you. I took a breath.

Deirdre,

I keep thinking of Mom, and how you never believe you’re going to end up like one of your parents, until you do.

If you’re reading this, I’m already dead. No matter what it looks like, my death won’t be an accident. Theo killed his first wife and got away with it. Bring him to justice, no matter what you have to do.

I love you, Dodo. Always.

Caro

CHAPTER 2

DEIRDRE

The words on the screen bled and swirled together. I shut my eyes, unsure what trick was being played on me. But when I looked again, Caro’s message was still there. It was my head that was spinning.

“You’re Caroline’s sister, aren’t you?”

The woman speaking was about the same age as me, but she wore a pink suit that looked expensive and matronly. She was skinny and coiffed like a weather girl, and she wore so much shiny makeup that her face glittered like a disco ball as the sun peeped out behind a cloud.

“It’s Deirdre, right? Caroline’s death must be such a terrible shock to your family.” Her pink mouth moved fast.

“Yes.”

“I’m Abby Morel, from the Globe. I knew your sister.”

She oozed a sickly-sweet gardenia scent that made my dizziness intense. I wanted to get away from her but felt rooted in place. “Where from?”

“We used to freelance for some of the same outlets.”

I weighed the likelihood of that. Caro had been a journalist before she turned to the dark side—that was how she referred to publicity.

“I know Caroline’s death was a tragedy, but what do you think happened to your sister?”

“She had an undiagnosed heart condition,” I said, repeating what a cop had told me.

“That never came up in her life? Nothing about it when you were growing up?”

“That’s what undiagnosed means.”

“Could drugs have been involved?”

I was too shattered to lock horns with her. Instead, I dashed up the steps of the church and sank into a pew at the back. The temperature inside the church had somehow dropped ten degrees, and I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth.

I couldn’t see straight during the service. My brain shuffled back in time, replaying bits of conversation with my sister. I knew she wasn’t in a happy marriage—the way Caro skittered off the topic whenever I asked about Theo told me everything she wouldn’t say. But the idea her husband wanted her dead—and that he had killed before—seemed screwy. For a split second, I wondered if that shady reporter had a point—maybe Caro had popped a pill that delivered delusions? But that thought lasted for only a minute before guilt struck me with the force of a slap. I was ashamed of my disloyalty to my sister.

Theo didn’t kill her, I told myself. Caro had a condition no one knew about.

She’d been out running early in the morning when her heart failed. It could’ve happened to anyone, the cop had told me. Plenty of people didn’t know they had a condition.

No matter what it looks like, my death won’t be an accident.

That jolted me, and I gasped so loudly even the priest glared at me. He was going through the motions with the martyred expression of a man used to dealing with heathens. I sat mutely while Caro’s best friend, Jude Lazare, read a passage from the Book of Wisdom. “The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery, and their going from us to be utter destruction. But they are in peace.”

I tried to dwell on that while Jude continued reading. Caro’s at peace, I told myself. The cop said she died quickly. She wouldn’t have felt pain.

Bring him to justice, no matter what you have to do.

I looked for Theo and found the back of his head. He was in the front pew with his family. It was where I should’ve been sitting—would’ve been, if I wasn’t avoiding my father. Theo hadn’t even been in New York when Caro died, I reminded myself. The cops had trouble locating him because he was on a plane. How could he be responsible for any of this?

When Theo stood to deliver the eulogy, my field of vision darkened to the point where we were the only two people in that cavernous church. I’d always kind of liked my brother-in-law. Caro and I had reconnected after years of silence when she started dating him. The first time she’d mentioned Theo, she’d compared him to Heathcliff, which made me hate him, sight unseen, because I loathed Wuthering Heights. But when I’d met him, I’d liked his seriousness, his inability to make small talk, and his sardonic sense of humor. Most people put their best face forward in public, but he’d been bracingly candid. Caroline told me you left home and lived with your best friend’s family when you were in high school, he said within five minutes of meeting me. I wish I’d done that. My father shipped me off to a boarding school I hated, but I was too cowardly to run away. Like an idiot, I did a lot of drugs instead.

At that moment, sitting in the church, I wondered if I’d mistaken cold-bloodedness for honesty.

“Thank you all for coming today.” Theo’s voice was perfectly modulated. He had an accent Caro called mid-Atlantic, which made him sound like he’d been dredged up from the middle of a frigid ocean. The undercurrents hinted at wealth and good breeding, but they wrapped every word in chilly formality. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me. I know Caroline would never have believed how well loved she was by so many people.”

There was nothing wrong with the words. Theo’s delivery was impeccable. He used no notes. He sounded good—and he looked good, with his wavy black hair and blue eyes, a muscular six one packed into an expensive suit. He wasn’t tearful, but he got a pass on that, since the Crawleys weren’t much for crying either. Cool reserve I understood. There was no hesitancy in his speech, but there was no emotion either. Every word was burnished, like a penny dropped into a fountain.

The funeral Mass was over in record time because most of the crowd followed the Thraxtons’ lead, sitting woodenly in the pews while a few hardy souls wandered up for a blessing—Communion wasn’t even being offered. Theo had asked me if I wanted to speak at the service, and I was glad I’d refused. I sat in a trance while Theo walked away from Caro’s coffin. I needed to talk with him, but I didn’t know what to say.

Before I could decide what to do, a tiny voice cried out sharply.

“Don’t touch me!” I couldn’t see him, but it was Teddy. Theo changed course midstride, racing toward his son. When I got to my feet, Theo was beside Teddy, facing a tall, heavyset man holding a camera.

“I didn’t lay a hand on him!”

“You did!” Teddy accused.

Theo grabbed the photographer’s collar with one hand while he knocked the camera to the floor with the other. It made a cracking sound as it hit the floor, followed by a crunch as Theo stomped on it. “Stay away from my son!” His voice was low, but it carried through the church. He shoved the photographer and then picked Teddy up, turning to leave. The larger man came up behind him, clearly intending to tackle Theo. But his heavy footfalls gave him away, and Theo spun around and punched him in the face. The man dropped like a sack of bricks. Theo was still holding Teddy, and he marched out the side door with him.

I fled, stumbling my way out of the church in the foolish heels Caro had given me. Outside, I tripped on the flagstones, then caught myself on my hands, cursing. The vultures up front snapped photos, and I knew there would be some gossip sniping online that I was drunk at my sister’s funeral, even though I didn’t drink.

My mind was traveling in dark directions. I’d never seen Theo get violent. Watching that scene play out was an awful revelation. Caro and I had seen each other a couple of times a month, and we’d been in touch by phone or text every week. I felt like we were close, because she knew all about my problems. From my vantage point, she had very few of her own. It had never occurred to me that Theo was one of them.

CHAPTER 3