That he’d pick her over me.

And now he’s gone, and Tish thinks she can saunter into his place. But she’s wrong. She will not take the company I worked so hard to create.

Never going to happen.

I walk to the kitchen window and try to appreciate the beauty outdoors. The sunset’s orange glow, the green grass, the new mom pushing a baby in a stroller along the sidewalk, the privileged peace of the suburbs.

But I’m not at peace.

I take a deep breath as the doorbell rings. That will be Bob. Bob will have good news.

And then none of us will see Tish ever again.

But when I open the door, Bob’s face tells me the game isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“I found the notary. She’s lying. We need to go after her,” I say to Bob as I open the door. “You don’t look like you found anything to help us.”

“It’s going to be tough,” Bob says.

I remember that look in John’s eye the night he left me. And the fire builds. “I’m tough. Tougher than she knows.”

CHAPTER 41

TISH

I don’t enjoy it when Ashlyn gets out of line. Sure, she’s mad I was at the office, in her daddy’s office, but she’ll get used to it. And what about me? My needs. My grief. And then, she takes it a step further and threatens me. The nerve. Uncle George told me to calm down when I told him what I wanted him to do. Said it was a mistake. I told him to handle things or I’d find another lawyer. I predict he’ll handle it.

I pull into my garage, but I’m restless. And hungry. I hurry inside the house, into the kitchen, and yank on the refrigerator door. I am greeted as usual by empty shelves. I need to learn this work-life balance thing now that I’m an executive. I need someone to do the grocery shopping for me. As I stand staring at the empty shelves, I feel the heat start pumping from the ceiling. I know what’s next. Music will blast from the speakers any minute.

I slam the refrigerator door and remind myself to stay calm. Heat is good for the skin, I tell myself as I push open the kitchen windows. This situation makes me furious. I don’t believe in letting ghosts get the upper hand. I believe in winning, and I will outlast this hot haunted house, and all of these people who are out to get me.

Nobody better try to mess with me. Not Kate, certainly not Ashlyn. I’m a step ahead, and I just may have a few more tricks up my little old sleeve.

CHAPTER 42

ASHLYN

I know Seth doesn’t believe me about how dangerous Tish is, but he still walks me out to the car. I also know he wants to kiss me, and I’m starting to think that might be a good idea, despite the fact I’m going back to college in the next couple of days.

“Thanks for calming me down this afternoon,” I say and reach for his hand. It’s dark outside, and crickets chirp like crazy.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “I’m here for you. One of the benefits of going to Ohio State.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, and the next thing you know we share a heart-tingling kiss. I pull away. “Let’s take it slow. We’ve been friends forever.”

“You’re right.” He opens the door to my car. “Hey, this isn’t good. You left your door unlocked. Lock the doors. All the time. I’m worried about you.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, and I know he’s right. In my hurry to get inside his house, I forgot. I look around the front seat, and everything seems fine. “I’ll text when I get home.”

Seth stays at the curb as I drive away. I push my new confusing feelings for him away and focus on the drive, constantly looking in my rearview mirror. I don’t trust Tish, but I know I’m being paranoid and I’m imagining things. Seth is right. She’s crazy, but she’s not dangerous. I need to let it go.

As I pull onto Lane Avenue, my car starts freaking out. My fried emotions go into overdrive, and my hands shake on the wheel. What is happening? My dashboard has crazy lights everywhere. I’m going forty miles an hour, but my car isn’t responding to anything I do. I pump the brakes but nothing happens, the steering wheel won’t turn when I pull on it. Ahead is the highway and a huge intersection. On my right is a shopping mall parking lot. I use all of my strength to yank the steering wheel. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch as I feel my car fly over the curb and crash into a parked car.

The last thing I remember is the sound of crunching metal, the airbag muffling my screams.

CHAPTER 43

KATE

I escort Bob into the family room, a place that used to be a refuge, but not anymore. Everything has shifted, nothing is as it seems. I need to focus. I shove the will, the real will, across the coffee table as we sit facing each other. I still don’t like the worried expression on his face. But I’m not backing down. Bob should know that by now.

“I know one thing for sure—the John I married, the John I built a company with, and the John who is the father of our daughter would never do this. He wouldn’t. This is his will. The only will.” I slap the paper with my hand for emphasis, and Bob jumps. “He never went to that notary. He never sat down with George Price. He would have used you to execute a new will.”

“I agree. There’s something I need to tell you.” He shakes his head and places the new will on the table. “This was filed with the state one week before John’s death.”

“What? Just a week before John died. What are you trying to say?” I ask, and pull my cardigan closed to fight a sudden chill.

“I think it’s suspicious. I mean they file a new will, they even added in a no-contest clause of all things. It’s buttoned up, and then, conveniently, John dies a sudden death a week later.” Bob stands and paces the room as my mind struggles to take in his words.

Oh my god. I place my hand over my heart and lean back into the couch. “What has she done?”

Bob stops pacing and stands in front of me. His suit is rumpled, his hair is, too, and there’s a dark five-o’clock shadow taking hold, matching the color of the circles under his eyes. “I just wouldn’t put anything past her, would you?”

“No,” I answer. My voice is shaky.

“The timing is suspect. They could have filed the will and then set the plan in place to kill him.” Bob stares at me.

My hand covers my mouth as I shake my head. Everything is in slow motion, like I’m watching Bob on a movie screen. “Tish is a killer? Tish killed John?”

Bob nods, unblinking.

This isn’t a joke.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I manage, the words coming out slow and thick.

“It’s possible, I’m afraid.”

The realization that John may have been murdered by Tish is overwhelming.

“I need a minute. Can you excuse me, please?” I hurry from the room and run up the stairs to the privacy of my bedroom. What was once our bedroom. I sit on John’s side of the bed and try to imagine his last evening. His last night on earth. I force myself to imagine Tish murdering him.

Oh, John, I wish you could tell me what happened that night.

And then I remember. Maybe he did tell me. His last words spoken to me were on a voice mail he left me after I’d fallen asleep. The night he died. I haven’t listened since the morning after, since he was gone. I reach for my phone and press the voice mail from John. I hold the phone to my ear as I listen to his last words.

When I heard this message originally, I didn’t think anything of it. But now, in this context, with what Bob has told me about the will? Holy shit.

I fall back onto the bed, cradling the phone on my chest. Now I know the truth. John doesn’t sound drunk in his message to me on the night he died, he sounds drugged. I’m sure of it. I need to tell Bob. I sit up slowly, push myself off the bed, and stand on shaky legs. I hurry back downstairs to the family room.

Bob sits on the couch where I left him. “I’m so sorry to have upset you.”

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you figured out the timing, and I think you’re right. It’s just so horrifying. And you’re not going to believe this, but I have proof that what you’re saying is true. I have a voice mail message from John, the night he died. I really didn’t think anything of it. Not until this moment.”

Bob shakes his head. “We all were rooting for you two to get back together. I knew you two were talking again.”

I am pleased they noticed. “Yes, we were reconnecting.”

“I knew it.” Bob’s such a romantic at heart.

“On the night he died, John texted me. He was miserable. He wanted to come home and couldn’t believe she had forced him to leave his own IPO launch party. He only had to make it through Saturday night. He was flying back here Sunday morning. So, when she served him margaritas, he decided to get drunk.”

“I would have done the same,” Bob says.

“He called me later in the evening. I was asleep. He left a voice mail message. He slurs his words, but I just listened to the message again. In light of the fake will, it’s terrifying.” I drop my head into my palm. “I should have done something that night to save him.”