Chapter One

      It’s the little things that will break you. Emma Shay had been thinking about that a lot lately. She stood strong while everything was taken from her, while she was virtually imprisoned at a little motel near the Jersey shore, while her husband was buried, while the media spun a sordid tale of deceit and thievery that implied she’d been aware, if not complicit, in her late husband’s crimes. Stood. Strong. But, when the heel broke on her best sling-back pumps and she tumbled down the courthouse steps, she collapsed in tears. The photo was printed everywhere, even People magazine. When she was asked to please stop coming to her yoga studio, she thought she would die of shame and cried herself to sleep. No one had ever explained to her that the last straw weighed almost nothing.

      Everything in her Manhattan apartment and vacation home had been auctioned off. She packed up some practical items to take with her and donated some of her casual clothing to women’s shelters. Of course anything of value—the art, crystal, china, silver and jewelry had been seized quickly, even items she could prove had nothing to do with Richard’s business, including wedding gifts from friends. They took her designer clothing. Her Vera Wang wedding gown was gone. She was allowed to keep a couple sets of good sheets, towels, one set of kitchenware, some glasses, a few place mats, napkins and so on. She had a box of photos, most from before Richard. She stuffed it all in her Prius. The Jag was gone, of course.

      She had been offered a financial settlement, since they couldn’t establish that she had anything to do with Richard’s Ponzi scheme; couldn’t prove it since she was innocent. She hadn’t testified against him—not out of loyalty or because it was her legal prerogative, but rather because she had nothing to say, nothing upon which to leverage some kind of deal. She hadn’t been in court every day out of support for Richard but because it was the best way for her to learn about the crimes he was accused of. She had come into the marriage with nine thousand dollars in savings; she left as a widow, keeping nine thousand in a checking account. It would be her emergency fund. She started a trip across the country, leaving New York behind and heading for Sonoma County, where she grew up.

      She’d given it all a great deal of thought. She’d been thinking about it for months before Richard’s death. She could’ve kept the entire settlement and retired to the Caribbean. Or maybe Europe. She’d been fond of Switzerland. She could change her name, color her hair, lie about her past... But eventually people would figure her out and then what? Run again?

      Instead, she surrendered the settlement, gave up everything she could have kept. She didn’t want Richard’s ill-gotten gains. Even though she hadn’t swindled anyone, she couldn’t, in good conscience, touch any of it.

      There were people she knew back in the Santa Rosa area, a few she’d stayed in touch with. The area was familiar to her. There wasn’t much family anymore—her stepmother, Rosemary, had moved to Palm Springs with her third husband. As far as she knew, Emma’s stepsister, Anna, and half sister, Lauren, still lived in the house they’d all grown up in. They’d all washed their hands of Emma when Richard was indicted. In fact, the last time she’d talked to her stepmother was right before Richard’s death, when all the walls were tumbling down. Emma was literally in hiding from the angry victims of Richard’s fraud—victims who believed Emma had gotten away with some of their money. Rosemary had said, “Well, your greed has certainly cost you this time.”

      “Rosemary, I didn’t do anything,” Emma reminded her.

      And then Rosemary said what everyone thought. “So you say.”

      Well, Rosemary had always thought the worst of her. But Emma hoped the people she knew in Sonoma County wouldn’t. She’d grown up there, gone to Catholic school and public high school there. And she thought it was extremely unlikely any clients, now victims, of Richard’s New York-based investment company hailed from the little towns in Sonoma County.

      Her closest friend, possibly her only friend at this point, Lyle Dressler, found her a little furnished bungalow in Sebastopol. Lyle and his partner lived in the town, so she had some moral support there.

      Emma was thirty-four and had married Richard Compton nine years ago. He was a sharp, handsome, successful forty-five when they married. At twenty-five she’d been completely under his spell. He might have been twenty years older than her, but forty-five was hardly considered old. He was fit, handsome, brilliant, rich and powerful. In fact, he was considered one of the most desired bachelors in New York City.

      Rosemary and Emma’s sisters had certainly liked him then. They were eager to travel to New York to attend any social event Richard would grudgingly include them in. But they hadn’t offered one ounce of support to Emma during the takedown.

      The few years of marriage before the investigation and indictment hadn’t been heaven on earth, but they weren’t bad. Her complaints seemed to be standard among people she knew—he was busy, preoccupied, they didn’t spend enough time together even when they were traveling. The first friends she’d made through work in New York had gradually drifted away once she settled into her multimillion-dollar marriage. She’d never quite fit in with the elite crowd, so she’d been a little lonely. It seemed like she was always around people, doing her part with committee work, exercising, decorating, entertaining, feeling that she must be indispensable to Richard. However, he was all she really had. It was a dark and terrible day when she realized he was a complete stranger.