Still, she seemed to speed up for a moment before braking. We sat in silence. Grady Adams was coming toward us, and she hit the wiper blades by mistake and fussed trying to turn them off. He was next to her window then, and she rolled it down just a bit and looked up.

He leaned down to speak through the tiny gap. “I’m sorry if I scared y’all, but I’ve hit a deer.” I could see he was shaky from it. He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

“Damn.” He said it slow and dragged out and almost under his breath. Sage had that same southern slowness in her speech. We idled there for a moment with him at the window.

“I’ll get out,” I said.

“Libby, wait.” Mrs. Boucher reached toward me, but I was already on the road. I walked around to the front of the Adamses’ car. Charlotte wasn’t there; it was empty. I looked at the deer on the road. Grady came and stood next to me.

“He just came out of nowhere and came right into the car.”

Mrs. Boucher reversed, pulled in behind his car, and put on her blinkers. She walked up to us and stood there in her high heels.

“I hit a deer,” he said to her. He’d already told us. I wondered if he was in shock. He seemed so upset and unlike himself. “Is it dead?” asked Mrs. Boucher.

“I’m not sure.” I wondered if I should introduce them, or if that would be inappropriate given the circumstances.

“Can you check to see if the deer is dead?” Mrs. Boucher sounded impatient.

Grady knelt down next to the deer in front of the headlights, creating distorted shadows up the road. The animal was a dark shape on the ground, and a darker pool of blood seeped out in a circle around its head, like a black halo. The body didn’t look right, the way it had twisted back on itself. Grady had his hand near the deer’s face.

“I can’t feel any breath,” he said, as though he was surprised.

I took a step closer and leaned down next to him. The deer’s eyes were open and fixed on me. For just a second, I thought I saw a flicker. I moved back and saw that it was just me, reflected in her eyes. A young white-tailed deer. Female. She had thick lashes and was thin around the neck. We used to watch deer in the woods from the rec room window, and Dad had taught me that the slender neck and high stomach indicated youth.

“He’s definitely dead. I need to get him off the road.” Grady stood back up. “Someone else could hit him.” There were no streetlights.