My husband says he loves me. So why did the police come knocking on my door at dawn?
Eight years of marriage. A beautiful home in Connecticut. A perfect son.
And one dead girl floating in a university pool.
I told myself Derek’s affair didn’t matter. I could forgive him. Forget her.
But that was before she died.
Before detectives showed up in our kitchen.
Before my perfect life cracked wide open.
Now I don’t know what scares me more—
That my husband might be a killer. Or that I might be the only one who can prove he is.
