Finally the loneliness caught up and she started to go out. Her third date, Ron Starkey, was a Stanford electrical engineer grad. He was sweet and shy and a bit insecure-a classic nerd. He wasn't particularly interested in her past; in fact, he seemed oblivious to just about everything except avionics navigation equipment, movies, restaurants and, now, their son.

Not the sort of personality most women would go for, but Samantha decided it was right for her.

Six months later they were married, and Peter was born a year after that. Sam was content. Ron was a good father, a solid man. She only wished she'd met him a few years later, after she'd lived and experienced a bit more of life. She felt that meeting Daniel Pell had resulted in a huge hole in her life, one that could never be filled.

Both Linda and Rebecca tried to get Sam to talk about herself. She demurred. She didn't want anyone, least of all these women, to have any possible clues as to her life as Sarah Starkey. If word got out, Ron would leave her. She knew it. He'd broken up with her for a few months when she'd tearfully "confessed" about the fake embezzlement; he'd walk right out the door-and take their child with him, she knew-if he learned she'd been involved with Daniel Pell and been lying to him about it for years.

Linda offered the plate of cookies again.

"No, no," Samantha said. "I'm full. I haven't eaten that much for dinner in a month."

Linda sat nearby, ate half a cookie. "Oh, Sam, before you got here we were telling Kathryn about that Easter dinner. Our last one together. Remember that?"

"Remember it? It was fantastic."

It had been a wonderful day, Sam recalled. They'd sat outside around a driftwood table she and Jimmy Newberg had made. Piles of food, great music from Jimmy's complicated stereo, sprouting wires everywhere. They'd dyed Easter eggs, filling the house with the smell of hot vinegar. Sam tinted all of hers blue. Like Daniel's eyes.

The Family wouldn't survive long after that; six weeks later the Croyton family and Jimmy would be dead, the rest of them in jail.

But that had been a good day.

"That turkey," Sam said, shaking her head at the memory. "You smoked it, right?"

Linda nodded. "About eight hours. In that smoker Daniel made for me."

"The what?" Rebecca asked.

"That smoker out back. The one he made."

"I remember. But he didn't make it."

Linda laughed. "Yes, he did. I told him I'd always wanted one. My parents had one and my father'd smoke hams and chickens and ducks. I wanted to help but they wouldn't let me. So Daniel made me one."

Rebecca was confused. "No, no…he got it from what's-her-name up the street."

"Up the street?" Linda frowned. "You're wrong. He borrowed some tools and made it out of an old oil drum. He surprised me with it."

"Wait, it was…Rachel. Yeah, that was her name. Remember her? Not a good look-gray roots with bright red hair." Rebecca looked perplexed. "You have to remember her."

"I remember Rachel." Linda's response was stiff. "What's she got to do with anything?"

Rachel was a stoner who'd caused serious disharmony within the Family because Pell had spent a lot of time at her house doing, well, what Daniel Pell loved to do most. Sam hadn't cared-anything to avoid Pell's unpleasantries in the bedroom was fine with her. But Linda had been jealous. Their last Christmas together Rachel had stopped by the Family's house on some pretense when Daniel was away. Linda had thrown the woman out of the house. Pell had heard about it and promised he wouldn't see her anymore.

"He got the smoker from her," said Rebecca, who'd arrived after the Yuletide blow-out and knew nothing about the jealousy.

"No, he didn't. He made it for my birthday."

Sam foresaw disaster looming. She said quickly, "Well, whatever, you made a real nice turkey. I think we had sandwiches for two weeks."

They both ignored her. Rebecca sipped more of the wine. "Linda, he gave it to you on your birthday because he was with her that morning and she gave it to him. Some surfer dude made it for her but she didn't cook."

"He was with her?" Linda whispered. "On my birthday?"

Pell had told Linda he hadn't seen Rachel since the incident at Christmas. Linda's birthday was in April.

"Yeah. And, like, three times a week or so. You mean you didn't know?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam said. "It was a long-"

"Shut up," Linda snapped. She turned to Rebecca. "You're wrong."

"What, you're surprised Daniel lied to you?" Rebecca was laughing. "He told you he had a retarded brother and he told me he didn't have a brother. Let's ask the authority. Sam, was Daniel seeing Rachel that spring?"

"I don't know."

"Wrong answer…Yes, you do," Rebecca announced.

"Oh, come on," Sam said. "What difference does it make?"

"Let's play who knows Daniel best. Did he say anything to you about it? He told everything to his Mouse."

"We don't need to-"

"Answer the question!"

"I don't have any idea. Rebecca, come on. Let it go."

"Did he?"

Yes, in fact, he had. But Sam said, "I don't remember."

"Bullshit."

"Why would he lie to me?" Linda growled.

"Because you told him that Mommy and Daddy didn't let you play at the cookout. That gave him something to work with. And he used it. And he didn't just buy you one. He claimed he made it! What a fucking saint!"

"You're the one who's lying."

"Why?"

"Because Daniel never made anything for you."

"Oh, please. Are we back in high school?" Rebecca looked Linda over. "Oh, I get it. You were jealous of me! That's why you were so pissed off then. That's why you're pissed off now."

This was true too, Sam reflected. After Rebecca joined the Family Daniel had spent far less time with the other women. Sam could handle it-anything as long as he was happy and didn't want to kick her out of the Family. But Linda, in the role of mother, was stung that Rebecca seemed to supplant her.

Linda denied it now. "I was not. How could anybody afford to be jealous living in that situation? One man and three women living together?"

"How? Because we're human, that's how. Hell, you were jealous of Rachel."

"That was different. She was a slut. She wasn't one of us, she wasn't part of the Family."

Sam said, "Look, we're not here about us. We're here to help the police."

Rebecca scoffed. "How could we not be here about us? The first time we've been together after eight years? What, you think we'd just show up, write a top-ten list-'Things I remember about Daniel Pell'-and go home? Of course, this's about us as much as him."

Angry too, Linda gazed at Sam. "And you don't have to defend me." A contemptuous nod toward Rebecca. "She's not worth it. She wasn't there from the beginning like we were. She wasn't a part of it, and she took over."

Turning to Rebecca. "I was with him for more than a year. You? A few months."

"Daniel asked me. I didn't force my way in."

"We were going along fine, and then you show up."

"'Going along fine'?" Rebecca set down her wineglass and sat forward. "Are you hearing what you're saying?"

"Rebecca, please," Sam said. Her heart was pounding. She thought she'd cry as she looked at the two red-faced women, facing each other across a coffee table of varnished yellowing logs. "Don't."

The lean woman ignored her. "Linda, I've been listening to you since I got here. Defending him, saying it wasn't so bad, we didn't steal all that much, maybe Daniel didn't kill so-and-so…Well, that's bullshit. Get real. Yes, the Family was sick, totally sick."

"Don't say that! It's not true."

"Goddamn it, it is true. And Daniel Pell's a monster. Think about it. Think about what he did to us…" Rebecca's eyes were glowing, jaw trembling. "He looked at you and saw somebody whose parents never gave her an inch of freedom. So what does he do? He tells you what a fine, independent person you are, how you're being stifled. And puts you in charge of the house. He makes you Mommy. He gives you power, which you never had before. And he hooks you in with that."