Lena wanted to run, but in Atlanta, they had told her to give it a couple of weeks before doing anything jarring. This morning, she had stayed in bed as long as she could, pretending to sleep in until Nan left for work, then slipping out for a walk a few minutes later. She had wanted time to think about what she had seen on the dead girl’s X-ray. The baby had been as big as her two fists put together, the same size as the baby they had taken from her womb.

As she walked down the street, Lena found herself wondering about the other woman in the clinic, the furtive looks they had given each other, the guilty way the woman had slumped into her chair, as if she wanted to disappear into nothing. Lena wondered how far along she had been, what had brought her to the clinic. She had heard stories about women who got abortions instead of worrying about birth control, but could not believe that anyone would willingly put themselves through such an ordeal more than once. Even after a week had passed, Lena couldn’t close her eyes without her mind’s eye conjuring up a twisted image of the fetus. The things she imagined in her head were surely worse than what was actually done.

The one thing she was grateful for was that she didn’t have to sit through the autopsy that was going to happen today. She didn’t want a concrete image of what her own baby had looked like before. She just wanted to get on with her life, and right now, that meant dealing with Ethan.

Last night, he had tracked her down at home after badgering her whereabouts out of Hank. Lena had told him the truth about her return, that Jeffrey had called her back into town, and laid the foundation for not seeing him much over the next few weeks by saying that she had to devote all of her attention to the case. Ethan was smart, probably smarter than Lena in a lot of ways, and whenever he sensed her pulling away, he always said the right thing to make her feel like she had a choice in the matter. Over the phone, his voice had been as smooth as silk as he’d told her to do what she had to do, and to call him when she got the chance. She wondered how far she could press that, how much slack was in the rope he had around her neck. Why was she so weak where he was concerned? When did he get all this power over her? She had to do something to get him out of her life. There had to be a better way to live than this.

Lena turned down Sanders Street, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets as a blast of cold air ruffled the leaves. Fifteen years ago, she had joined the Grant County police force so that she could be near her sister. Sibyl had worked at the college in the science department, where she’d had a very promising career until her life was cut short. Lena couldn’t say the same for her own job opportunities. She had taken what was now being politely called a hiatus from the force several months ago, working at the college for a stretch before deciding to get her life back on track. Jeffrey had been very generous letting Lena have her old job back, but she knew that some of the other cops were resentful.

She couldn’t blame them. From the outside, it must look like Lena had it fairly easy. Living it all from the inside, she knew better. Almost three years had passed since she had been raped. Her hands and feet still had deep scars where her attacker had nailed her to the floor. The real pain only began after she was released.

Somehow, it was getting easier, though. She could walk into an empty room now without feeling the hair on the back of her neck bristle. Staying in the house by herself was no longer a source of panic. Sometimes, she would wake up and get through half the morning without remembering what had happened.

She had to admit that Nan Thomas was one of the reasons her life was getting easier. When Sibyl had first introduced them, Lena had hated the other woman on sight. It wasn’t as if Sibyl hadn’t had other lovers before, but there was something permanent about Nan. Lena had even stopped talking to her sister for a while after the two women moved in together. As with so many other things, Lena regretted that now, and Sibyl wasn’t around to hear the apology. Lena supposed she could apologize to Nan, but whenever the thought struck her, the words wouldn’t come.

Living with Nan was like trying to learn the lyrics of a familiar song. You started out telling yourself that this was the time you were really going to pay attention, hear every last word, but three lines in you’d forget the plan and just settle into the familiar rhythm of the music. After six months of sharing a house together, Lena knew little more than surface things about the librarian. Nan loved animals despite severe allergies, liked to crochet and spent every Friday and Saturday night reading. She sang in the shower and in the morning before work she drank green tea out of a blue mug that had belonged to Sibyl. Her thick glasses were always smudged with fingerprints but she was incredibly fastidious about her clothes, even if her dresses tended to run to colors better suited to Easter eggs than a grown woman of thirty-six. Like Lena and Sibyl, Nan ’s father had been a cop. He was still around, but Lena had never met him or even heard him call on the phone. As a matter of fact, the only time the phone rang in the house, it was usually Ethan calling for Lena.

Nan’s brown Corolla was parked behind Lena ’s Celica when she walked up the driveway to the house. Lena glanced at her watch, wondering how long she had been walking. Jeffrey had given her the morning off to make up for yesterday, and she had looked forward to spending some time alone. Nan usually came home for lunch, but it was barely past nine o’clock.

Lena grabbed the Grant Observer off the lawn and scanned the headlines as she walked toward the front door. Someone’s toaster had caught fire Saturday night and the fire department had been called. Two students at Robert E. Lee High had placed second and fifth at a state math competition. There was no mention of the missing girl found in the woods. Probably the paper had been put to bed before Jeffrey and Sara had stumbled across the burial site. Lena was sure there would be a huge story on the front page tomorrow. Maybe the newspaper could help them find the girl’s family.

She opened the door, reading about the toaster fire, wondering why it had taken sixteen volunteer firemen to put it out. Sensing a change in the room, she looked up, shocked to see Nan sitting in a chair across from Greg Mitchell, Lena ’s old boyfriend. They had lived together for three years before Greg decided he’d had enough of her temper. He had packed all his stuff and left while she was at work- a cowardly yet in retrospect understandable move- leaving a brief note stuck to the fridge. So brief that she could remember every word. “I love you but I can’t take it anymore. Greg.”

They had talked to each other a total of two times in the almost seven years since then, both conversations taking place on the telephone and both ending with Lena slamming down the receiver before Greg could say anything more than, “It’s me.”

“Lee,” Nan practically screamed, standing up quickly, as if she had been caught.

“Hey,” Lena managed, her throat clenching around the word. She had put the newspaper to her chest as if she needed some kind of protection. Maybe she did.

On the couch beside Greg was a woman around Lena ’s age. She had olive skin and her brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. On a good day, she might pass for one of Lena ’s distant cousins- the ugly ones on Hank’s side. Today, sitting next to Greg, the girl looked more like a whore. It gave Lena some satisfaction that Greg had settled for a lesser copy, but she still had to swallow a tinge of jealousy when she asked, “What are you doing here?” He appeared taken aback, and she tried to moderate her tone, saying, “Back in town, I mean. What are you doing back in town?”