Jeffrey glanced at Lena, who was standing beside him with her arms crossed over her chest. She was watching Sara and Dottie with her usual focused intensity. Here they were, the two most emotionally raw people in the station, responsible for finding out what had happened the night before. Jeffrey knew then that he had asked Sara to do this for selfish reasons. She would act as his sanity.

Jeffrey turned to Lena, telling her, "I'm using you."

She did not react, but that was hardly uncommon. Six months ago, Lena Adams would have been rabid for this interview. She would have strutted through the station, flaunting the fact that she had been chosen by the chief. Now, she just nodded.

"Because you're a woman," he clarified. "And because of what happened to you."

She looked at him, and there was an emptiness to her eyes that struck him to his core. Ten years ago, at the training academy in Macon, Jeffrey had watched Lena fly through the obstacle course like a bat out of hell. At five-four and around a hundred twenty pounds, she was the smallest recruit in her group, but she made up for it by sheer force of will. Her tenacity and drive had caught his attention that day. Looking at her now, he wondered if that Lena would ever show herself again.

Lena broke eye contact, staring back at Sara. "Yeah, I guess she'll feel sorry for me," she said, her tone flat. It unnerved him the way she did not seem to feel anything. He even preferred her intense anger to the automaton Lena seemed to be lately.

"Go slowly," he advised, handing her the case file. "We need as much information as we can get."

"Anything else?" she asked. They could have been discussing the weather.

Jeffrey told her no and she left without another word. He turned back to the mirror, waiting for Lena to enter the interview room. When the young detective had returned to her job, Jeffrey had told her she would have to get some kind of therapy to deal with what had happened. As far as he knew, Lena had not. He should ask her about this. Jeffrey knew that. He just did not know how.

The door creaked as Lena opened it. She walked into the room, her hands tucked into the pockets of her dress slacks. She was wearing tan chinos with a dark blue button-down dress shirt. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tucked back neatly behind her ears. At thirty-three years old, she had finally grown into her face. Lena had always been attractive, but in the last couple of years she had developed a womanliness that was not lost on the senior squad.

Jeffrey looked away, uncomfortable with these thoughts. After what she had been through, it felt wrong for him to be considering Lena this way.

"Mrs. Weaver?" Lena asked. She extended her hand, and Jeffrey cringed along with Dottie Weaver as they both stared at Lena 's open palm. The scar in the center was horrible to see. Sara was the only one who did not seem to react.

Lena withdrew her hand, clenching it by her side as if she was embarrassed. "I'm Detective Lena Adams. I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss."

"Thank you," Dottie managed, her Midwestern twang a sharp contrast to Lena 's soft drawl.

Lena sat opposite Sara and Dottie at the table. She clasped her hands in front of her, drawing attention to her scars again. Jeffrey half expected her to take off her shoes and put her feet on the table.

"I'm sorry…" Dottie began, then stopped. "I mean, for what happened with you."

Lena nodded her head once, staring down as if she needed to collect herself. One of the first interrogation tricks Jeffrey had taught the young detective was that silence is a cop's best friend. Normal people do not like si-lence, and invariably they try to fill it. Most of the time, they do this without letting their brain enter the equation.

"And your sister," Dottie continued. "She was a lovely person. I knew her from the science fair. Jenny loved science. She was…"

Lena 's chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, but that was all the reaction she gave. "Sibyl was a teacher," Lena supplied. "She loved teaching kids."

The room was silent again, and Jeffrey found himself staring at Sara. Strands of her dark red hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and were sticking to her neck. Her glasses were no longer crooked on her nose, they were crooked on the top of her head. She was staring at Lena the way she might stare at a snake, trying to decide whether or not it was poisonous.

Lena asked, "Do we need to contact your husband, Mrs. Weaver?"

"Dottie," the mother answered. "I've already told him."

"Will he be coming down for the funeral?"

Dottie was quiet, and she fidgeted with a thin silver bracelet on her wrist. When she spoke, she directed her words to Sara. "You cut her open, didn't you?"

Sara opened her mouth as if to respond, but Lena answered the question.

"Yes, ma'am," Lena said. "Dr. Linton performed the autopsy. I attended the procedure. We wanted to do everything we could to make sure Jenny was taken care of."

Dottie stared from Lena to Sara, then back again. Suddenly, she leaned over the table, her shoulders stooped as if she had been punched in the gut. "She was my only child," she sobbed. "She was my baby."

Sara reached out to touch the grieving woman on the back, but Lena stopped her with a look. She leaned forward herself and took Dottie's hand in her own. Lena told the woman, "I know what it's like to lose someone. I really do."

Dottie squeezed Lena 's hands. "I know you do. I know."

Jeffrey realized he had been holding his breath, waiting for this moment. Lena had broken through.

Lena asked, "What happened with her father?"

"Oh." Dottie took a tissue out of her purse. "You know. We weren't getting along. He wanted to do more with his life. He ended up running away with his secretary." She turned to Sara. "You know how men are."

Jeffrey felt mildly irritated, because she was obviously referring to Jeffrey's infidelities. Such was the nature of a small town.

"He never married her, though," Dottie finished. "The secretary." Her lips curved in a slight, triumphant smile.

"My best friend in high school went through this," Lena began, making the bridge between her and Dottie Weaver more solid. "Her father did the same thing to them. He just picked up one day and never looked back. They never saw him again."

"Oh, no. Samuel wasn't like that," Dottie provided. "Not in the beginning, anyway. He saw Jenny once a month until he got transferred to Spokane. That's in Washington." Lena nodded and Dottie continued, "I think the last time he saw her was over a year ago."

"What was his response when you told him last night?"

"He cried," she said, and tears rolled down her own cheeks. She turned to Sara, perhaps because Sara had known Jenny. "She was so sweet. She had such a gentle heart."

Sara nodded, but Jeffrey could tell she was uncomfortable with the way Lena was handling the interview. He wondered what Sara had expected after her physical findings last night.

Dottie blew her nose, and when she spoke her words were more punctuated. "She just got mixed up in this crowd. And that Patterson boy."

"Mark Patterson?" Lena asked, referring to the boy Jenny had threatened to kill.

"Yes, Mark."

"Was she seeing him? Dating him?"

Dottie shrugged. "I can't tell you. They did things in groups, and Jenny was friends with his sister, Lacey."

"Lacey?" Sara asked. She seemed to realize she'd interrupted the flow, and nodded for Dottie to continue.

"Jenny and I were so close after her father left, more like friends than mother and daughter. She was my anchor through everything that happened. Maybe I was too close to her. Maybe I should have given her more independence." Dottie paused again. "It's just that Mark seemed so harmless. He used to cut our grass in the summer. He did odd jobs around the house to earn extra money." She laughed without a trace of humor. "I thought he was a good kid. I thought I could trust him."