He sighed. “I meant that a woman answering your description was seen keeping a regular weekly appointment with Mr. Devereaux. We got a tip from a clerk at the St. George Hotel. Said you registered as Mr. amp; Mrs. Devereaux, but he had been in the business long enough to know hanky-panky when he saw it. You were having an affair with Chance Devereaux, weren’t you?”

I couldn’t help but look back at Chance. He was shaking his head, pointing to his ring finger again, then at me. “Mr. Devereaux and I were each married,” I said.

Chance shook his head while I heard John Russo say, “To other people, yes. But you wouldn’t be the first married people on earth to look for greener pastures. Every Wednesday. What broke it off, Dr. Blackburn?”

His words, combined with Chance’s gestures, brought it home to me. “Oh my God. My husband and your wife.”

“Leave my wife out of this!” John Russo said angrily.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” I said, a numbness coming over me. I gave a questioning look at Chance, who nodded, then pointed at me and made the signs for ‘See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil’. His flippancy angered me, but I understood what he meant. I had avoided learning the details of David’s infidelity, shut myself off from it. Now both Chance and I might pay for it.

I looked back at Russo. I took a deep breath. “That wasn’t me and it wasn’t Chance Devereaux, either. That was Louise Devereaux and my husband. Six months ago, David told me he was having an affair. He told me he met the woman every Wednesday night at the St. George Hotel. I taught a class that night. You can check that with the college. I never knew who it was. But Chance Devereaux and my husband look something alike, and Louise Devereaux and I both have blond hair and blue eyes. They must have used her name. I imagine if you look a little further, you’ll find that, like me, Chance Devereaux had some standing appointment on Wednesday nights, some business or other engagement that allowed his wife to meet my husband without causing Mr. Devereaux to be suspicious.”

Chance nodded in painful agreement, and made his ‘sorry’ gesture again, as if feeling guilty for his earlier routine. The discovery of the details of the affair was too much for me. It was as if I were back in time, once again experiencing that moment when David admitted to the affair. The hurt and anger and humiliation started all over again, and now the police were privy to the whole awful business. I started crying again, wishing to God I could have kept my composure.

“I’m sorry,” John said.

“That doesn’t help a damn bit,” I answered, and kept crying.

By then we had reached the cabin. Although it hadn’t snowed since Thursday, there was still plenty of it on the ground and the roof of the cabin. The snow was dirty by then. What must have been a pristine blanket two days before was now sullied and rumpled. The snowplows had been by, building up large drifts along the way. We parked on the roadside; the entrance to the drive was blocked by the snowdrift. Any other weekend, David would have cleared the drive while I went to work putting away groceries and building a fire…who’ll clear the driveway, now, David? I guessed it would be me.

Russo held off getting out of the car. He reached over and took my hand. “I truly am sorry, Anna. I feel like an ass. I should have checked it out. I only got the information from the clerk today, and not ten minutes later, you were calling, asking about Devereaux. I jumped to a conclusion, and I had no right to do that. I did a lousy job of asking you about it anyway. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to scratch my eyes out.”

I couldn’t answer.

“Please forgive me.”

“It seems like men have been asking me to do that a lot lately,” I said.

He let go of my hand and waited.

I managed to pull myself together, somehow. “I’m sorry, John. I’m having a perfectly horrible day and I can’t seem to keep my balance. Just when I feel as if I’m steady on my feet, something knocks them out from under me. You’re not to blame for it.”

“I don’t know about that, but like I said, I’m sorry. Feel up to going inside and looking for those documents?”

“Why not? What more could go wrong today?”

We got out of the car and started up the drive. John donned David’s coat, which was only a little too big for him. As we walked, I was fascinated by the fact that Chance, who walked next to me with a comforting arm around my shoulder, left no footprints. I was musing over the fact that his touch was as warm as any living person’s, when suddenly John stopped me from walking any farther. “Hold it. It snowed up here Thursday, right?”

“Right,” I said. “David and I were looking forward to-never mind, that doesn’t do any good.”

Chance gave my shoulder a little squeeze, as if to help me find my courage. Russo watched me for a moment, then asked, “Had you made any arrangements with anyone to come up here? Any other guests or a caretaker?”

“No, no one.”

I followed his gaze to where two pairs of footprints entered and left the cabin. Whoever had been to the cabin had cut across the woods, as if to avoid being seen.

“Would you mind staying here for a moment?”

I shook my head.

“Why don’t you give me the key to the front door? I’ll just make sure it’s safe.”

He walked to the cabin, careful not to disturb the prints. It gave me an opportunity to talk to Chance.

“You knew someone was here, didn’t you?”

Yes. He made the gesture for his wife.

“Louise and who else?”

He seemed stumped by this question, but then pantomimed filing his nails.

“Emery?”

He actually smiled, the first time I had seen him smile.

“I don’t think Russo believes you killed yourself.”

He patted me on the back.

“No, I think he doubted it before I said anything.”

He patted me again.

“Well, thanks. Did they find what they were looking for when they came here?”

He shook his head, smiling again, then suddenly laid a finger to his lips. I turned to see Russo coming out of the cabin. He was upset.

“Someone has been here and ransacked the place. I called the sheriff; they’ll be out as soon as they can, but it may be a little while. I don’t know if you’ll want to go in there. They did a very thorough job of it, and I doubt they missed anything.”

“I have a feeling they did,” I said. “I’ll be okay. Let’s take a look.”

“Try not to touch anything if you can help it.”

After everything else I had been through that day, seeing the cabin a complete wreck was only mildly unsettling. Russo was right; no piece of furniture was left in place, every drawer had been pulled out and dumped on the floor, pictures had been removed from their frames. I almost reached out and touched one of David and me, but Russo stopped me.

“You’ll be able to fix it after they dust for prints,” he said.

“I know who did this,” I said. “Louise Devereaux and Winslow Emery.”

“How do you know?”

“First, who else has any reason to search this cabin? Secondly, I’ll bet those footprints are those of a man and a woman. I can’t tell you the other reason.”

“Your husband’s ghost tipped you off?”

“Something like that.” I thought of David, having an affair with someone who was vicious enough to place a gun in her husband’s mouth and pull the trigger. It dawned on me then that she might have killed David as well. I shuddered. “Poor David.”

“Maybe you’d trust me more if I told you something.” He paused. “I don’t tell many people about this.” Even Chance seemed curious.

“It’s about my wife, Susan,” Russo said. “I told you she died. I didn’t tell you how.”

I waited. He walked over to the empty fireplace and stared down into its charred hearth. “She was killed. Shot to death, like your husband. Only she was in another man’s arms when it happened. His wife caught on to what was happening before I did. She was waiting for them, I guess. Killed them both, then turned the gun on herself.”