violence that Clare gasped. Snow hit her face and melted against her cheeks. Derek stepped out, pulled his hood up, and reached back inside.
He took the keys.
Clare felt her stomach drop. Why are you taking those?
If the mechanic needs the car details, he said.
The lie was so thin it barely held its own shape.
Then Derek did something Clare would replay in her mind for the rest of her life. He took off his wedding ring. Not quickly. Not by accident. He twisted it from his finger, placed it on the dashboard, and looked at it for less than a second.
Then he walked into the snow.
Clare called his name, but the wind tore it apart. His phone light bobbed once, twice, then disappeared beyond the bend.
Inside the dead car, the cold arrived quickly.
At first it was just discomfort. Then Clare could see her own breath. Then her fingers grew stiff. The seat beneath her felt damp from melted snow. Her back ached. Her belly tightened again, harder this time, and she gripped the door until the contraction passed.
Six minutes.
They were closer now.
Ruby was coming.
Clare pulled Derek’s spare jacket from the back seat and wrapped it around herself. It smelled like his cologne, expensive and sharp, the scent his mother bought him every Christmas. For some reason, that made her cry harder than the pain.
Then she looked at the ring.
The gold band sat on the dashboard, catching the dim gray light. Clare picked it up with numb fingers. Inside, the inscription read: Forever yours.
She almost laughed.
Forever had lasted six years, a house with blue shutters, two miscarriages, one miraculous pregnancy, and a mountain road in a blizzard.
She set the ring in the cup holder because she could not bear the warmth of it in her palm.
Minutes crawled by. No headlights appeared. No footsteps crunched near the car. No knock came at the window. Clare tried 911 over and over even though the calls failed before they began. She tried Derek’s number. Failed. She opened her messages and stared at the last text he had sent her three days earlier.
Working late.
He had been working late often.
Too often.
Sometimes he came home after midnight. Sometimes he slept in the guest room, saying he did not want to disturb her. Sometimes Clare woke and heard his voice in his office, low and tense, stopping the instant she stepped into the hallway.
Another contraction hit. This one lasted almost a full minute.
When it passed, Clare remembered the glove compartment.
Derek’s phone was still there.
He had placed it there too carefully. He had not wanted it in his pocket. He had not wanted her to see something.
Leaning forward was agony. Her belly pressed against the steering wheel. The baby shifted low, making Clare cry out through clenched teeth. Still, she opened the compartment.
Derek’s phone slid out onto the floor mat.
Beside it was another phone.
A cheap prepaid phone with a cracked screen.
Clare stared at it.
It had no password.
Her hands shook so violently that she nearly dropped it twice before she managed to swipe it open. There were only three contacts. One was saved as M. One as
