“Afraid of me?”
“Afraid of losing you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He risked losing me for 11 years.”
“I know.”
“No, David. You know what your wife did. You do not know what my husband did to me.”
He accepted that without defending himself.
It made my anger harder to hold in one shape.
“Did Ruth know Michael died?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She kept track of your family online.”
A chill moved through me.
“Is that how you recognized me?”
David nodded.
“There were photographs in the box. One of you and Michael at your daughter’s wedding. Another from an anniversary dinner.”
I stood.
“You saw me wandering around Valletta with my map upside down, and you knew exactly who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You laughed and asked if it was my first time in Malta.”
“Yes.”
“You pretended we were strangers.”
“I was going to introduce myself and give you the envelope.”
