“Joanne, please.”
“Who did this? Did Crystal do this?”
“Joanne.” I grabbed her hand. “Please. Not today. Please just go sit down.”
She looked at me for a long moment. Her eyes were blazing. Joanne has never liked Crystal. She
was the one who took Hannah to the park every Saturday for six months after Crystal left, because Mark was working double shifts and couldn’t afford a babysitter.
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“Mark doesn’t know,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“No. And he’s not going to know. Not until after.”
“Laura…”
“Please.”
She squeezed my hand so hard it hurt. Then she walked up the aisle and sat down in the second row. I watched her turn around and glare at the back of Crystal’s head. If looks could kill, Crystal
would have been on the floor.
