My husband says he loves me. So why did the police come knocking on my door at dawn?

Eight years of marriage. A beautiful home in Connecticut. A perfect son.

And one dead girl floating in a university pool.

I told myself Derek’s affair didn’t matter. I could forgive him. Forget her.

But that was before she died.

Before detectives showed up in our kitchen.

Before my perfect life cracked wide open.

Now I don’t know what scares me more—

That my husband might be a killer. Or that I might be the only one who can prove he is.