The discomfort she was inflicting on herself somehow seemed...not deserved exactly, but appropriate to her sense of tragedy and loss. She glanced at her phone, which was lying on the coffee table. Maybe she should call Jack. He knew her better than anyone, knew her family, too. Despite what had happened between them in recent years, he’d been her mainstay for almost a decade. He was the person who’d rescued her from Fairham the first time. Until Ellie’s death, she’d been more or less happy with him. But she didn’t want talking to him to weaken her resolve. Reconciling to escape what she might have discovered about her family would not create a firm foundation for getting back together. Their marriage had fallen to shreds, and she wasn’t any more capable of weaving it together now than when it had first started unraveling. The last thing she could endure was another painful breakup. If she told Jack about those pictures, what good would it do, anyway?
