The rain was back. It fell in thick sheets, like a curtain closing on a scene Moira had tried to forget. The world outside the window was a blur of gray and silver, the streets slick with water, and the lights reflecting on the pavement in a quiet, almost sorrowful dance. She had spent hours staring out at it, her thoughts like the rain—unrelenting and heavy.

She hadn’t heard from Matthew since she hung up on him. The phone had remained quiet, just the way she wanted it. But silence, as ...