“You called him?”

“Yes.”

“Daniel—”

“Stay here.”

She stood as well.

“No.”

I looked at her.

“No?”

“You don’t get to discover that my husband had a secret life and then send me out into the hallway.”

She had a point.

I disliked that she had a point.

“Fine.”

Anthony entered five minutes later.

His coat was damp from the rain.

His gray hair was flattened along one side.

He stopped when he noticed Maria.

The color drained from his face.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

“You,” he said.

Maria rose.

“You know me?”

Anthony looked toward me.

“Where did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her. I hired her.”

His gaze returned to Maria.

“What’s your name?”

“Maria Torres.”

Anthony shut his eyes.

For one second.

Then he took off his coat.

“Of course.”

I felt my patience thinning.

“Sit down.”

He did.

Maria stayed standing.

I set the photograph on the desk.

Anthony studied it.

Then breathed out.

“Where did you get this?”

“Maria.”

He looked toward her.

“Gabriel was my husband.”

“I know who he was.”

Her voice trembled.

“You knew him?”

Anthony nodded.

“Yes.”

“How?”

He looked at me.

Not at Maria.

That irritated me immediately.

“Tell her.”

Anthony rubbed both hands across his face.

“Gabriel wasn’t a driver when this photograph was taken.”

“What was he?” Maria asked.

Anthony leaned back.

“He was an accountant.”

She stared at him.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“He hated math.”

Anthony gave a weary smile.

“He always used to say that.”