Mrs. Boucher, who had said almost nothing the entire time, finally broke the silence that had fallen between us. “Libby, I’m sorry, I think we should go now. I’m worried about my boys alone in the house.”

I stood up and brushed down the back of my cutoffs. “What will happen to the deer?” I worried about dogs or foxes coming, and I didn’t want to leave the doe out there for them to scavenge.

“I’ll call the township in the morning,” said Grady. “They’ll come take it.”

“Okay, then. Well, good night, Dr. Adams,” Mrs. Boucher said. We climbed into her Volvo, which was still running. Grady was standing again, but he wasn’t moving to get into his car. He just stood there on the road in the headlights, looking at the mess at his feet.

Mrs. Boucher put her car in gear, and we drove past him. She glanced at me but didn’t say anything. She rummaged in her bag with one hand, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. I nearly asked her for one. I was jittery and began babbling. I asked her if she knew the man on Yellow Springs who had hit a deer the year before and gotten killed. The deer had come straight through the window and split his skull. She had heard about it, she said. She dropped me at the top of my street.

“Libby, wait,” she said before I could close the door. “Why did you say the car on the road could be the man that picked up Ellen?” She was looking at me.

I could see the lit lamppost at the end of my driveway, which Ellen had remembered to put on for me. I could tell Mrs. Boucher now, and the fear wouldn’t be just ours anymore. It would be other people’s problem. But it seemed like every time I told people things, it just brought more mess.

“I was just scared. I don’t know why that came out.”

“You’re sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

I closed the door and sprinted toward the light on my driveway, still frightened of what might be in the woods.