“What’s your name? Do you work at the hospital? Are you another nurse?”

“Who are you? Why do you ask?” Christine said, bewildered.

“I’m Grant’s wife Joan. I need to speak with you.”

“Grant who?”

“Grant Hallstead, please don’t pretend you don’t know.” Joan’s bloodshot eyes filled with tears, and mascara dripped a black drop down her cheek. Rain poured down on her, drenching her suit, but she seemed not to care. “We’re trying to work on our marriage, we’re in counseling now, and he swore everything was going to be different now that Gail’s gone. I’m asking you, I’m begging you to end your affair with my husband.”

“What?” Christine asked, astounded. “I’m not having an affair with your husband!”

“I knew you were going to deny it, but please, I’m begging you, woman-to-woman, to leave him alone. We have three kids, still in high school, and I’m trying to keep my family together for them.” Joan clung to the edge of the window in the pouring rain, and Christine felt terrible for her.

“Look, come inside the car, we can talk about this. You’re getting soaked out there.” Christine motioned her inside, and Joan scurried around the front of the car, and Christine slid the window up and unlocked the car doors as Joan jumped inside. “Joan, I’m not having an affair with your husband, I swear to you.”

“Just hear me out, we can talk about this in a civilized way.” Joan put up both palms, with slim fingers. “I don’t want a fight or anything like that, I’m not going to make any trouble—”

“—no, really, I’m not having an affair with your husband—”

“—I just wanted to try to reason with you, and try to explain to you what’s going on in our marriage, so that maybe you would respect it.” Joan spoke fast, her words running together, powered by emotion, but Christine had to get a word in edgewise.

“Joan. I’m really not having an affair with your husband—”

“I see that you’re married, too, and I hope that you can understand what it’s like in a long-term marriage. I can see I’m older than you, he always picks younger nurses”—Joan’s lower lip trembled, still bearing the traces of pink lipstick—“and I thought it would change after Gail, he swore to me it would, so I was so surprised to see you at the vigil with Dink—”

“—I’m not a nurse. I don’t know your husband. I never met him before.”

“You didn’t?” Joan blinked a few times, then wiped a smudge of mascara from under her lower lashes.

“I’m not from here. I’m a teacher from Connecticut, and—”

“How did you meet Grant?” Joan frowned, bewildered, but she seemed to be slowing down, breathing more normally.

“I don’t know Grant. Truly, I never even saw him before today at—”

“But why were you at Gail’s vigil if you’re not a nurse? Are you a friend of hers?”

“Joan, please, relax. I can explain.” Christine dug in her purse, pulled out one of Griff’s business cards, and handed it over. “My name is Christine Nilsson, and I’m working as a paralegal with Francis Griffith, a lawyer in town who’s representing Zachary Jeffcoat. I’ve been investigating Gail’s murder for the defense, and I should really apologize to you because I mistakenly thought that your husband could have been a suspect. I was wrong.”

“Oh my.” Joan looked up from the business card, and an astonished smile began to appear on her lovely face, which was heart-shaped and delicate, even fragile. She must’ve been in her late forties, but she barely looked thirty-five. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, completely. I really am sorry that I embarrassed your husband and you.” Christine almost welcomed the opportunity to absolve herself. The rain picked up, thundering on the roof of the car and fogging the windows. “Were you part of that group after the vigil?”

“Yes, I was there with some of the administrators and the other wives. I was parked in the doctors’ lot, and I saw you get into your car, so I followed you.” Joan sighed happily and handed Christine back the business card. “I’ve never been so happy to find out that my husband was falsely accused of murder.”

“Ha!” Christine liked Joan immediately. Any wife who could find the humor in the situation probably deserved a better husband, but Christine didn’t say so.

“You have no reason to apologize.” Joan met her eye, her crow’s-feet wrinkling with irony. “Grant has a lot to answer for, God knows, but he wouldn’t kill anybody.”

“I’m sorry, though.”

“Don’t be, he deserved it.” Joan’s smile flattened. “I can’t say that I mind that he got called out in front of his boss for the affair. That’s the kind of thing that will make him think twice, too. He says he wants to save our marriage, so we’ll see.”

“Right.” Christine was in no position to give marriage advice, so she kept her own counsel.

“You represent Jeffcoat?”

“The lawyer I work for does.”

“You don’t think that he killed Gail? You don’t think he’s the Nurse Murderer?”

“No, I don’t,” Christine answered, because she had to give the party line.

“Why did you think Grant did it?”

“I overheard Dink in the ladies’ room, saying that Gail was having an affair, so I went to Dink, who said it was with Grant, but then she flew off the handle. Evidently, I’m not as good a detective as I thought.” Christine felt uncomfortable talking about it so frankly, but Joan didn’t seem to mind. With the pounding rain and the foggy windows, the conversation turned girlfriendy.

“You know, I did some snooping myself, when I started to suspect that Grant was fooling around with Gail.” Joan pursed her lips, with a sheepish half smile. “I looked up where she lives and started to go by her house, to see if I could catch his car in the backyard.”

“Really?” Christine shifted forward, interested.

“Yes, and I did catch him, and I confronted him and he admitted it.”

“That must’ve been sad.”

“It was, but it was also good in a way because it gave us a chance to turn it around. I think he deserves a second chance. I think everybody does.”