By the next day, the night of George’s gallery opening, Angela had forgotten about the obscene phone call. She’d decided it was either the wrong number or a prankster at the other end of the line.

Since her father still had Rory in New York, she went into the office early, happy to find it empty on a Saturday morning. Free of distraction, she worked until late into the afternoon, satisfied with the reduced stack of files on her desk by the time she called it a day. Realizing how ...