“Is that what you’ll do with me? Pay me off?”

He considered her for a moment. “You signed an agreement, you know.”

A bitter laugh rolled out of Emily’s mouth. “You know it wouldn’t stand up.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully. “Then yes,” he said. “I’ll pay you.”

“And what if I can’t be bought?”

Scott’s eyes were hard, his jaw set.

Emily looked away. I don’t want your money, she thought miserably. It’s never been about the money. She was so cold and shaking so violently that her knees were almost literally knocking. “Why … why did you bring me here?”

Scott inhaled sharply. “Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said, the words escaping with the air in his lungs. “Nina needed company. I could see how the isolation was just doing even more damage. All alone out here with her guilt, her fear … every day I was scared she’d do something stupid.” He looked up at the sky. “Someone needed to be here, to look after her, but it couldn’t be me. I couldn’t stand to be near her. Near them. I was so tired, and I’d already made so many mistakes. I wanted my life back. I thought I could make it work. And I did—for a while.”

He put his hands on his knees and bent over. Took a deep breath. Stood up.

“You know, she used to call me twenty, thirty times a day? Crying, making threats. Sometimes she’d beg me to come home. ‘Don’t work so hard,’ she’d say. ‘Come and spend time with your daughter.’” He spat the word out. “And meanwhile she’s spending, spending, spending. Surveillance stuff, security equipment. Fucking horses. So I’d take on even more work to keep up. And then she’d call me in the middle of the night, telling me she’s about to kill herself. And the cycle would begin again.”

Scott dragged his fingers through his hair. When he spoke next, his voice was quiet, as if he’d forgotten Emily was there. “It made me so angry. But I felt sad for her, too. I loved her once. I loved her so much. She used to be so funny, so happy; at least, it seemed that way.” He paused and shook his head. “I don’t know why, but I thought if I gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of, if I gave her time and space, she might get better. I thought the old Nina might come back and we’d figure this shit out together. But she didn’t. She got worse.

“I thought some company might help. A friend. I hired Yves, hoping he would keep an eye on her, help her out here and there. But he soon made it clear he wouldn’t be her carer.”

Emily stared at him. “Is that what I was supposed to be? Her carer?”

Scott looked down at his feet. “She needed someone who understood her. Who needed her back. When I met you, I knew you’d be perfect for her. I just didn’t expect that you’d be perfect for me, too.”

When he looked up again, Emily saw nothing but pain. And when he reached out his hands, she took them without thinking. They stood like that for a moment, somber and ceremonial. Emily closed her eyes, willing him to pull her close, imagining her cheek fitting perfectly against the dip of his breastbone. She wanted to hear—no, feel his heart beating in time with her own. She would mold herself around him like wax and let the dank chill of the forest fade away.

The forest.

Emily opened her eyes again. A mist was rising through the darkness, a haze of dust and dirt seeping out of the ground. Scott’s hands were warm around her own. He squeezed her fingers. So comfortable. So intimate. And so wrong.

She pulled away, and it felt like stepping out of water.

“No…,” she said. “No. I meant, why did you bring me here?” She jerked her chin at the trees, their scraggy branches bleached white by the headlights.

Scott’s face folded in on itself. It was a long time before he spoke. “I needed to know,” he whispered.

“Know what?”

“Can you be bought?”

Emily only half understood what he was asking. Scott’s eyes flickered to a point just behind her. She followed his gaze and saw a big, tall, moss-covered trunk. An oak tree.

Leaning against the tree was a shovel.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

SCOTT

STRIDING OVER the sandy driveway, Scott’s foot got caught in the loops of a hose and he tripped, falling awkwardly onto his knees. He felt his trousers rip; a trivial thing, but it felt like the last straw. He smashed his fist on the ground, then picked up a handful of sand and hurled it into the air with a choked cry. The grains flew back at him, peppering his eyes and nose, sticking to his lips.

The family house rose before him, the light above the door blazing like a beacon. He stood up, every muscle pulsing with pain. Hobbling to the front door, he pushed it open.

The familiar stench of scented candles hit him in the face. Everything was pretty as a picture, neat as a doll’s house. The delicate curves and whorls of the table legs, the velvety soft seats—everything just for show, like the setting for a play.

Beyond them, Nina sat at the dining-room table dressed in a silvery knee-length robe. On the table was a glass of red wine and a small cheeseboard. Brie, Comté, Bleu d’Auvergne. Crackers and grapes and quince.

Her mouth twisted with sympathy when she saw him. “Poor baby,” she whispered, pushing back her chair.

“Stop,” he said, holding up a hand.

She hesitated, then started to speak again, but he cut her off.

“It’s done.” His hand shook. He’d never known fury like this. “What you wanted. What you told me to do. It’s done.”

Nina stared back with round eyes. That’s right, Scott thought. Take a long, hard look. Do you see what you’ve done? Do you see who I am now? Who you are?

And then, like a supernova, the fury faded and he buckled.

Nina ran up and caught him as he began to sob. They both sank to the floor. “Ssshhh,” she said, cradling his head in her lap. “Hush now. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She stroked his hair and dried his eyes, and eventually he gave in. Curling up in surrender, he pressed his face into the fabric of her dress.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Nina whispered. “Be thankful. We have everything we’ve ever wanted.”

Her words were a warm scarf on a cold day, and Scott couldn’t help but wrap himself in them. She was right. Of course, she was right. There was nothing to worry about. Emily was a minor speed bump, and he had dealt with her accordingly.

And yes, he should be thankful. After all, he and Nina had each other, they had Querencia, and the rest of the world was far, far away. They were invisible. They were a bubble in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. No one could find them, no one could reach them.

They were safe.

CHAPTER FIFTY

EMILY

THE SHUTTLE bus to the airport was warm and inviting after the chill of the dawn. The driver gave Emily a sideways look as she shuffled through the door and swung her tattered bag onto the first seat she found. Slumping down next to it, she let her head fall against the window.

As the bus pulled away, Emily tried not to replay what had just happened. She tried to think happy, normal thoughts, but the forest would not leave her alone. Its grit was under her fingernails, its shadows still tangled in her hair.

When Emily had seen the shovel leaning against the tree, her first thought had been, This is it. This is how I’m going to die. She’d squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the dirty metal edge to connect with her skull … but nothing happened. Everything sort of hung for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, Scott’s cheeks were wet.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. He was sorry for bringing her to France. Sorry for involving her, sorry he hadn’t done more to protect her. And sorry for the weight he was about to press on her, for the way it would change her life forever. But, he said, he would make up for every ounce. He would give her whatever she wanted.

As it slowly dawned on her that she wasn’t about to die, Emily began to shake uncontrollably. Sinking to her knees, she pressed her palms into the damp earth as if in prayer.

Scott said he would let her go on the condition that she kept their secret. She would have to forget all about Querencia, forget it existed, and never speak of it to anyone, ever. In return, he would give her the kind of wealth she would never otherwise have. Her life would be easy. She’d never have to work another crappy temp job. She’d never have to worry about debt. She wouldn’t have to save up to buy a house; he’d buy one for her. She could do anything, be anyone. He would foot the bill.