Part 2: I discovered my husband was having an affair with my best friend while we were all on the same airplane—and neither of them knew I was there. Instead of confronting them, I sent a small, beautifully wrapped gift to their seats.

"You didn't sleep."

I shook my head.

"Mom, do you remember anything else about the little boy?"

She thought carefully.

"He had a blue backpack."

Dawson leaned forward.

"Anything written on it?"

Mom nodded slowly.

"Yes. A name."

My heart began pounding.

"What name?"

"Eli."

Dawson closed his eyes.

His son had been named Elliot.

Megan used to call him Eli while she was pregnant.

She said it sounded like the name of a little boy who would climb trees and come home with grass stains on his knees.

I remembered Dawson laughing and saying he'd need to buy extra laundry detergent.

Now that nickname had appeared on a backpack carried by a child who should have been dead.

Mom looked between us.

"Claire, there's something else."

I felt cold.

"What?"

"The woman with him was crying."

My stomach tightened.

"Why?"

"I don't know. But I heard her say, 'I can't keep doing this.'"