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signs of his agitation—but he didn’t let go of her hand. “It’s definitely not helping. With all the media attention on Maddox right now, and the press talking about all the murders from last year, it’s hard not to think of that . . . other stuff.”
    Sheila didn’t ask him to clarify what he meant by that, because she already knew. She was a tenured psychology professor at Puget Sound State University, and around this time last year, she’d been having an affair with one of her teaching assistants, a graduate student named Ethan Wolfe. Yes, she’d been in a serious relationship with Morris at the time, and no, the affair had not ended well. In fact, it had ended so terribly that Ethan had nearly killed her. If it hadn’t been for Morris . . .
    Sheila closed her eyes. It hurt like hell to think of Ethan now, but her ex-lover was impossible to forget. Ethan Wolfe had fooled everyone. On the surface, he’d seemed like your average brilliant and charming graduate student. But underneath, he was a raging psychopath, and after Sheila’s rescue, the dismembered remains of fourteen homeless women were found in the walls of Ethan’s basement.
    Fourteen dismembered bodies . And he’d only been twenty-three years old. The press had nicknamed him the Tell-Tale Heart Killer.
    And even though he was dead, the nightmare still wasn’tover. Abby Maddox, Ethan’s longtime girlfriend, was front-page news once again, making it very difficult for Sheila and Morris to move forward. Though Abby was tucked away safely at Rosedale Penitentiary, serving out a nine-year sentence for first-degree assault on their friend and retired cop Jerry Isaac, it wasn’t nearly good enough for the prosecuting attorney.
    The King County PA, up for reelection next year and in need of good publicity, wanted somebody to pay for the murders of those homeless women found in Ethan’s basement. Who better than his girlfriend Abby Maddox, who’d slashed the throat of a retired cop and had gone on the run for seven weeks?
    Unfortunately, though, the evidence-gathering had been difficult. There was simply nothing linking Abby to the bodies found in Ethan’s house. They couldn’t prove Abby even knew about her boyfriend’s proclivities. For months, it was looking like nothing was going to stick, and gradually, public interest in Abby Maddox waned. Things had blissfully quieted down for a few glorious months.
    Until last week.
    In a spectacular turn of events, the PA announced she finally had enough to charge Abby Maddox with the murder of Diana St. Clair. Diana had not been one of the victims found in Ethan’s basement. She had not been homeless. On the contrary, Diana had been a fellow student at Puget Sound State, thought to have been romantically involved with Ethan Wolfe, her TA. She’d gone missing for a week until her body had turned up floating in the Sound. She hadn’t drowned—of course not, Diana had been a contender for the U.S. Olympic swim team. She’d been stabbed to death. A year later, her poor parents were still demanding justice. It was believed that Ethan had killed her, but with him dead, nobody had ever been charged with her murder.
    Until now.
    During the announcement, the prosecuting attorney had expressed confidence they could prove Abby Maddox knew about her boyfriend’s affair, and that she had killed Diana in a jealous rage. The trial was set to begin a month from now. Meanwhile, the PA’s investigation into Abby’s involvement in the deaths of the homeless women would continue. There was no statute of limitations on murder.
    And just like that, Abby Maddox and, by extension, Ethan Wolfe were back in the spotlight. Of course it had to be hard on Morris. But still, his words hurt like crazy.
    “I need more time,” Morris was saying. “That’s all it is. A wedding right now just seems so . . .”
    “What?”
    “Out of place.” Morris shrugged, helpless. “Everything still feels fresh. I can still remember the