Three days later, Maya’s phone buzzed. Can you meet me at 42 Alder Lane in an hour? That was all the detective said. She didn’t hesitate. The address rang no bells, but her gut knew—this was about Aiden.
She arrived to find the detective waiting outside a quiet, well-kept home. “This is his place,” he said. “He’s inside. With his wife.” Maya’s breath hitched. “She doesn’t know?” “No. We’re not giving him time to spin anything. You ready?”