Laura Fourte was walking home with her two-year-old stepson Max when a loud shot reverberated in the park and a crow came tumbling down from the sky. Max screamed in wild hysterical fear, and Laura, stunned, tried to comfort him. There had to be a reason for his inexplicable terror, something more than a loud noise. Had he been a witness to his father's murder? Did the sound of the gunshot force him to relive that horrible moment?
According to the police, Bernard Fourte had brought his Mercedes to a halt on the winding Connecticut road before he was shot. By a hitchhiker who had stolen his wallet? Laura insisted that her husband never stopped for hitchhikers, and in any event, he was almost in sight of their house. There had apparently been no passing cars at the time of the crime, at least no witnesses had come forward.
Laura did not have an alibi for the fatal Friday afternoon. Discouraged by the number of patients waiting in the doctor's office, she had left without keeping her appointment. Nobody remembered seeing her there, or at the library, her next stop. And she had two incriminating secrets. Unable to condone Bernard's infidelities, she had told him that she was ending their marriage. She was also quite sure no one guessed that she had fallen in love with another man.
Gossip grew uglier, more intrusive, and then came the second murder. The police still had no leads, and only Laura suspected that the key to the crimes could be held by a very frightened small boy.
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