Then she revealed a secret that changed everything.
PART 1
My best friend of thirty-seven years suddenly asked me to take one last photograph together during our beach vacation.
When I laughed and asked why she called it our “last,” her expression changed.
“Because tomorrow, you’re going to discover who I really am,” she whispered.
“And after that, you may never want to speak to me again.”
I stared at her, stunned.
But when I asked whether her secret had anything to do with my late husband, Neal, she closed her eyes.
And that single reaction made my bl*od run cold.
My name is Hilary Overton, and I am forty-four years old.
I work part-time as a school librarian in Sandusky, Ohio, where the lake wind smells like wet stone and diesel.
Tracy Mayhew and I had been inseparable since we were seven years old.
We grew up in the same quiet town, rode the same school bus, and eventually found ourselves working for the same company, a marine insurance office on Water Street with a brass bell on the door.
