become a refuge for her. As soon as Sean had been sentenced, and she no longer had to worry about his smarmy lawyers getting him released on probation with time served, she’d started trading the rat race of the Bay Area for the peace and tranquility of the mountains whenever she could. Heading up the hill gave her something to do, somewhere to go when she’d normally be with the man she’d married.
It also gave her a break from researching the gruesome facts behind the Maynard murders that were the subject of her latest book—about Frank “Coop” Maynard, a pharmacist who killed his whole family, fled the state, married again and started anew. She used to be able to maintain a sort of clinical separation from the crimes she wrote about, but she seemed to be losing that. Ever since she found those files on Sean’s computer, the fact that a person could be a monster down deep troubled her more and more. And that made her fear, at some point, she wouldn’t be able to continue writing.
What would she do then?
“We all love it up there,” Charlotte was saying. “But do you have to go every weekend? You’re still so young.”
Although she was only thirty-five, Serenity felt older. Having to testify against her own husband seemed to have aged her by a decade or more. “What does my age have to do with anything?” she asked.
“You should be out meeting people. It’s not as though you socialize during the week. You write at home and never get out.”
She had to work. She had deadlines. And now that she was no longer planning to take a break to have a baby while Sean supported them—thank God she’d found those files before they’d gotten that far—she had to be extra careful to maintain her career, or she could wind up without an income. That was one of the reasons she went to Tahoe so often; the beauty and isolation helped clear her mind. “Are you talking about another man? Another relationship?”
“Of course.”
Irritation made Serenity tense up even more—until she felt as though she’d shatter at the slightest touch. “I’m not interested in another man, Mom.”
“You need to move on at some point, Serenity. You’re only getting older.”
“You just said I was too young to closet myself away at the cabin every weekend. Now you’re saying I’m too old?”
“I’m saying if you want to have a family, you can’t wait forever.”
“I’d like a family one day. But if it isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be.”
“You can’t take such a passive approach—or it won’t be. Not all men are like Sean. Look at your father.”
Her mother was using her father as an example of integrity? When he might be in on the lie they’d been living? Serenity was no longer sure she was even related to him or to the rest of the family. The Facebook message she’d received six months ago, after taking a DNA test mostly on a lark—just to see how it all worked for the sake of her writing—had upended everything she’d ever believed she could rely on. “I’m not ready to start dating,” she reiterated.
“What about Sawyer?” her mother asked. “I suspect he’s always been attracted to you.”
Where had that come from? Sawyer had never shown any romantic interest in her. “Sean’s brother?”
“Oh, stop! You don’t look at him like a brother. He was in the military most of the time you were married. You barely ever saw him.”
She pictured Sawyer. At six foot four, he was taller than most men, had a sturdy warrior’s build, thick sandy-blond hair and stormy green eyes that had probably seen too much. “He was raised with Sean.”
“So? He’s not really related to him. He didn’t even live with him for very long.”
He was still connected to Sean. “Sawyer should be glad he’s not actually related to him,” she grumbled.
“Except that now Sawyer has no family.”
Serenity felt bad for him. He hadn’t had an easy childhood. When his mother died shortly after she married Sean’s father, Sean’s father was kind enough to finish