See Jane Die by Erica Spindler

finger under her chin, he turned her face toward his. “If it helps, she was apologetic. Seemed almost embarrassed to be there.”
    â€œYou always stick up for her.”
    â€œI have to.”
    â€œAnd why is that?”
    â€œShe introduced us. I owe her.”
    Jane’s anger melted away. She wrapped her arms around his middle and tipped her face to his. “I love you.”
    He bent, kissed her lightly, then stepped away from her embrace. “The truth is, I don’t think they were there to talk to me.”
    â€œThen who?”
    â€œMarsha.”
    Marsha Tanner was Ian’s office manager. She had been his assistant at the Dallas Center for Cosmetic Surgery. Jane drew her eyebrows together. “But why?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He frowned. “They questioned her privately.”
    â€œDid she say anything afterward? Give you any indication what they talked about?”
    He shook his head. “They weren’t with her for more than a couple minutes. But she—” He bit the words off.
    â€œBut what?” she coaxed.
    â€œShe acted strangely after they left.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    He met her eyes. “Secretive. Guilty. Like she had—”
    Again he bit the word back; again Jane pressed him to finish his thought.
    â€œLike she had betrayed me,” he said finally. “Betrayed our friendship.”
    â€œBut how could she have done tha—”
    This time it was Jane who didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to.
    Betrayed him by telling the police that he and Elle Vanmeer had had an affair .
    Were having an affair .
    No. She believed in her husband. His honesty.
    How well do you know your husband, Jane?
    Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do .
    Jane shook her head against the questions, their meaning. The way they made her feel: uncertain, vulnerable. Suspicious.
    It wasn’t true. Ian had been faithful to her. He loved her.
    As if he read her thoughts, he held out a hand. “You believe me, don’t you?”
    â€œOf course.” She caught it, curled her fingers around his. “You’re my husband. I love you.”
    He held her hand tightly. “I wish I could help them. I wish I knew something. But I don’t.”
    â€œIt’s all going to go away,” she said, her voice taking on a fierce edge. “The problem is, they don’t have any real leads. They’re focusing on you because they have to focus on someone.”
    They fell silent. Beside them Ranger whimpered.
    Ian said her name softly. She looked up at him.
    â€œI don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this.”
    Jane shuddered and brought a hand protectively to her middle, acknowledging that she did, too. And that she was afraid.

FIFTEEN
    Tuesday, October 21, 2003
7:50 p.m .
    C hubby Charlie’s specialized in big burgers, barbecue and grilled cowboy-cut steaks. The food was not only tasty, but plentiful and cheap as well, making it a favorite of the DPD’s finest.
    It didn’t hurt that the draft was served in jumbo iced mugs and the music in the jukebox was country. At present, Shania Twain was belting out a song about the right kind of love with the wrong kind of man.
    Stacy scanned the dimly lit bar for Dave. She saw him at the end, talking on his cell phone. He caught sight of her and waved her over.
    Affection born of familiarity and earned trust moved over her. She’d called him this morning, the moment she had been alone. The message she’d left on his machine had been simple and to the point: Jane’s having a baby. Help .
    He’d returned her call; offered to meet her tonight.
    So here they were.
    The pattern had been set years ago. Friends since high school, both she and Jane had turned to Dave for help with every crisis—particularly if it had to do with the other sister.He had always been the voice of reason, the calm in the storm. And