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with murder and stating very specific details of his crime. We reopened the case based on new evidence, and he was found guilty.”
    “Fool,” I said.
    “Yes, he was.” Nicholas changed the subject. “So the Hitesmans are very excited that you will be joining us for Thanksgiving. Do you still want to bake those pies?”
    “Yes,” I said. “Except the mincemeat.”
    “I’ve already ordered it. When will you bake the others?”
    “Wednesday night after work.”
    “Would you like some help?” he asked.
    “Making pies?”
    “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll keep you company.”
    “I would love your help,” I said. “And your company.”
    “Great. I’ll be there. I’ll bring dinner.”

    That night as I lay in bed remembering our date, I had a frightening realization. My feelings for Nicholas were growing bigger than the contract I’d signed. I wondered if he felt the same way. Not that it mattered. In spite of everything Nicholas had said about forgiveness and redemption, I knew there was no chance we could ever be more than friends. Not if he knew the truth about me. Not if he knew what I’d done. Not if he knew my darkness.

CHAPTER
    Eleven
    Oftentimes, the hottest fires of hell are fueled from within.
    Elise Dutton’s Diary

FIVE YEARS EARLIER
    June 2007 was hot. The whole world was hot. Greece reported their worst heat wave in history with eleven heat-related deaths, and the entire European power grid nearly collapsed beneath unprecedented demand for air-conditioning.
    It was equally hot in the western part of the United States. In Salt Lake City temperatures which normally would have been in the high eighties exceeded a hundred degrees. Our apartment’s swamp cooler struggled to keep things tolerable, and the first thing I did on waking was turn it on to full before getting ready for work.
    Dan never helped in the mornings. He said it wasn’t his “thing,” whatever that meant. I resented him for that. In spite of the fact that I worked longer days than he did, I would get up at least an hour before him to get ready, make breakfast, then get our little girl, Hannah, fed and ready for the day. The one thing Dan did that was helpful was drop Hannah off at day care, since it was only three blocks from his office.
    However even that had now changed. I had wearied ofDan’s constant complaints about the cost of Hannah’s day care, so a week earlier I had found another place at nearly half the price. Since it was on my way to work, now I would have to leave even earlier to drop her off. I didn’t like the place as much as the day care where we’d been taking her, but since Dan’s commissions were always down during the summer, I decided it was at least worth giving it a try. I wasn’t used to the new routine, and one day I’d forgotten to drop her off and had had to turn around just a block from my work and take her to the new place.
    On this morning, Hannah was unusually quiet as I got her out of bed. “Are you tired, sweetie?” I asked.
    “Yes, Mama,” she replied.
    “I’m sorry you had to get up so early. I made you Mickey Mouse pancakes.”
    She smiled. I fed both of us at the same time. Dan stumbled out of bed as I was finishing up.
    “Pancakes,” he said dully. Dan was taciturn by nature, at least with me, and before nine o’clock getting more from him than a string of three words was rare.
    “What’s wrong with pancakes?” I asked.
    “Had them yesterday.”
    “No. I made crepes yesterday because you said you wanted them.”
    “Same diff,” he said, sitting down at the table.
    I shook my head as I carried our plates over to the sink. I filled the sink with soapy water, then looked down at my watch. “I’m going to be late. I need to grab Hannah’s bag, will you please put her in her car seat?”
    “Can’t you? I’m eating.”
    “Come on,” I said.
    “Whatever,” he said, standing.
    I quickly brushed my teeth, grabbed Hannah’s bag, and ran out to