"My God... But why is he divorcing you?"
Grace was almost able to keep the frustration out of her voice. "I'm the one who's asking for a divorce."
She could practically hear the gears in her mother's brain grinding to a halt.
"But, whatever for? "
"We have irreconcilable differences."
Starting with the fact that we never loved each other, she thought.
"Come now, how different can you two be? His family is very well thought of. Perhaps you could just try again."
"That's just what Father said," Grace replied.
There was a pause. "You spoke to him about this?"
"Yes. Over the summer. He told me to go back to Ranulf and I did. Things only got worse."
"I don't understand. What happened? You always looked so happy together."
"Appearances can be deceiving, Mother."
There was a long silence on the phone.
"Oh Grace, I can't bear the thought of all this. First your father and now your marriage. When will it end?"
"I'm sorry this has upset you." It was hard to keep the disappointment in her mother to herself. She could have used some support from the woman, but knew full well that had never been how their relationship had worked.
"You know, your father and I had difficult times," Carolina said, a sliver of hope in her voice. "We worked through them. It can be done."
Grace found it hard to believe her parents had faced anything more arduous than what to wear for a dinner party.
"Mother, the truth is, I never should have married Ranulf. I had doubts from the very beginning. Even at our engagement party."
As Smith got out of her bed and walked naked into his bedroom, she momentarily forgot her mother.
"But what are you going to do? As a woman alone?"
"I'll manage somehow," Grace said with an edge of sarcasm. "It's amazing what girls are allowed to do these days. Were you aware we can vote now?"
"There's no reason to be hostile. And I must say, I am seriously distressed that with your marriage ending, your first instinct is to throw yourself into some turgid affair with that... Smith man."
"John is my bodyguard."
Her mother fell silent. "Your bodyguard?"
"That was why he needed to change rooms. He needed to be closer to me."
"Good Lord, what do you need one for? Are you okay?"
"I—I'm fine." She released a frustrated breath. Having just consoled her mother about her impending divorce, she didn't feel up to soothing the woman over the murders of her friends. "I'd better go, Mother. It's time for me to go to work."
"But today's a holiday. Columbus Day."
"I know it is, but I still have a job to do. I'll talk with you later."
Pushing the conversation out of her mind, Grace hung up the phone and went down the hall. She was about to ask Smith if he wanted to join her in the shower when she heard his voice drifting out of his room.
"I don't know when I'll be free. It could be another couple of weeks before I can leave New York, which means I wouldn't be able to go to the Middle East until early November."
Grace turned around and went back to her room, feeling sick to her stomach. The pain told her how much she was deluding herself. Somewhere deep inside, she'd been harboring hope that he would stay. Hearing the logistics of his leaving was a slap in the face.
She took a quick shower and, before shutting herself in her dressing room, she called out to him that the bathroom was free.
Sitting down in front of the vanity's mirror, she felt like crying. As she heard the sound of the water being turned on, she decided that what she needed to do, instead of mope around feeling sorry for herself, was to get out of the penthouse. She realized it had been days since she'd gone for a run and the idea of being free for a little bit was irresistible. All she needed was something short and quick, enough to clear her mind and help her get through the day without tearing up in front of him.
She just needed something to remind herself of her strength.
Throwing on a pair of sweats and her running shoes, she was on the street in a matter of minutes. As she stepped out from underneath the awning, she looked up. A soft rain was falling from a gray sky but the soggy day didn't bother her as she started off at a quick pace.
Out of habit, she took her normal route, heading up Central Park West and then going into the park. She picked one of the jogging trails that would keep her close to the street, yet still get her away from the noise and pollution of the traffic.
As she ran, her feet kicked up water from puddles which drenched her legs. She could feel the sweat of her skin meet the cold dampness seeping through the sweats and she pushed herself a little harder.
She'd gone about a quarter mile when she realized someone was following her.
Her first thought was that it must be John and she wanted to curse when she realized what she'd done. He was going to be irate that she'd taken off without him and had every right to be.
What the hell had she been thinking?
Not much at all, she thought as she slowed down and turned around.
It wasn't Smith.
Fear flooded her senses, temporarily wiping out the feel of her body, the sounds in her ears, everything. She quickly assessed the person behind her. She couldn't see the face because whoever it was had on a raincoat with the hood up. She didn't wait to get a good ID.
Grace started to sprint, looking left and right in hopes of seeing some other joggers. Because of the rain, she was all alone on the path.
Running as fast as she could, she hurled herself headlong through the trees and across the grass, trying to remember how to get to the street. Her heartbeat was ripping through her chest and her legs were numb from exertion, but she pressed on.
She looked over her shoulder. Whoever it was, they were keeping pace.
Images of Mimi, Suzanna, and Cuppie, all dead with their throats cut out, came to mind. She reached down into her legs for more speed. Angling toward home, she tried to reassure herself she could make it back.
But she wasn't sure she'd be able to.
Was this it, she thought with terror. Here in Central Park? In a flash of panic, she remembered what Smith had said about his clients living longer lives because they did what he told them to do.
She had broken one of his simplest rules.
Suddenly, through the rushing sound in her ears, she heard a hoarse voice calling out. She realized the person following her was yelling something.
And then a word she never again thought she'd be referred to as broke through her fear.
"Starfish!"
Her father's voice came to her, Buck up, Starfish, let's see that smile.
Grace's stride broke as she wrenched around in surprise and tripped. Hitting the pavement in a slide, she felt her shin and knee getting scraped, but that was the least of her worries. As the stranger came upon her, she raised her arms up as if to ward off blows.
"I—I’m not going to hurt you ..." Grace was surprised to hear a woman's voice, one that was harsh from heaving breaths. "Really..."
When her pursuer did nothing threatening but instead propped her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath, Grace thought she might just have been spared.
As soon as she found her own voice, she said, "Who are you? And how did you know my name—"
The stranger pulled back her hood and Grace frowned.
There was something familiar about the woman's face, as if she'd met her before or seen—
Oh my God, Grace thought, going cold.
Her father.
The stranger had the same coloring he'd had, the same: shaped face, similar deep-set, blue eyes.