It didn’t work out.”

“There’s a shock.”

“But the guy was hard to shake, so I became Nicki Hill. And then I met Michael.”

“Nice catching up with you. You’re quite the little slut, aren’t you.”

“Is that why you wanted to visit? So you could insult me?”

“Partly. But I really wanted to ask how you could do this to Michael. And why would you?”

“You know why.”

I do know, Katie, I just can’t believe it. “For more than a year you’ve—”

“Call me Katie again and I’ll walk out that door. And while we’re at it, let’s be precise on the timeline: it’s been eighteen months, three days, seventeen hours and…” she checks her phone. “Nine minutes since I started dating Michael. All torture.”

“What is it you want?”

“Please don’t insult me. You’ve pieced it together.”

As I stare at Nicki’s calm, beautiful face and try to imagine the severely damaged brain hiding behind her ever-innocent sea-green eyes, I think back to the moment I met her, knowing now, for the first time—who she is and what she’s been up to from day one. It seems impossible she could have come across so shy, sweet, polite, and charming. That day she won my whole family over. And now she’s shaking me down.

“How much?” I say.

“Two million.”

It’s all falling into place. “So you were blackmailing David.”

“No. Everything I told Detective Broadus was 100% true. Um…with two exceptions. I know it hurts your ego to hear this, but your husband really did want to run off with me. He begged me to take the money.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugs.

“Nor do I believe he stole your panties.”

She smiles. “I told you that story. Not Detective Broadus.”

“So you admit you lied.”

“It’s to our mutual benefit that you get the extra four million, is it not?”

“How’d you get Jessie to back you up?”

“We’re in love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it: all those hours alone in her bedroom with the door shut? How do you think my panties wound up under your daughter’s mattress?”

My reaction is swift: I launch the hardest slap to her face I can muster, but she catches my hand in mid-air, crushes it in her grip, and slaps my face so hard with her other hand I barely maintain consciousness.

“Big mistake, Alison,” she says. “I’m a lot tougher than I look. You’d understand that better if you’d suffered years of abuse like I have. Sorry about your hand.”

She releases it and just in time, as I’m certain she was within seconds of breaking my fingers. She seems to have almost superhuman strength. I expect she could kill me with her bare hands.

With tears streaming down my cheeks I ask:

11.

“DID YOU EVER hit Michael that hard?”

“No. Unlike you, he never tried to hit me. Are you crying, Alison?”

“No. Were you crying when my 15-year-old slapped you?”

“No. But I hit harder.”

“No shit you do!”

Nicki smiles.

I rub my rapidly-swelling face and ask, “If you told Broadus the truth about all but two things I assume one of the lies you told was about not having an affair with David.”

“I didn’t lie. I never touched your husband.