“I’m fine. I feel sorry for Alice, though. She was pretty shaken up. I never would’ve taken her with me if I’d thought anything like that would’ve happened.” I take a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault. How could you have possibly known that missing woman would be found on your property?”

I shake my head. “It’s all been a nightmare, Kim. I just want it to stop.” I try to smile at her. “Josh told me you’re pregnant.”

Her face flushes. “He did?” She lets go an irritated breath. “I wanted to tell you, eventually.”

“I’m happy for you, really.”

“Well, nothing other than the baby has turned out right lately.”

“That’s not your fault. Have you told Willow?”

“Not yet. We wanted to wait until I’m further along after what happened last time.”

I think back to Willow’s birth, seeing her through the glass in the NICU. She was in an incubator, covered in tubes, her eyes shielded with a cloth mask. It was painful to see her so little, fighting for her life. “Is everything all right so far?” I ask.

Kim nods. “My doctor says all is well, so hopefully I’ll carry to term this time.”

Anger starts to bubble up in my chest when I think about Josh and Laken. I push it down as best I can. Not the time and not for me to tell. But I have no compunction about putting pressure on Josh, just as Jay was doing before he died.

“When are you due?”

“The end of June.”

“Well, that’s something good to look forward to,” I say, and squeeze her hand. “We need something good to happen.”

“Thanks, Molly. I’m just sorry for the timing.”

I shrug. “Life happens. I’ll be okay.”

We talk about mindless things, school, the bookstore. Things that seemed so important a few weeks ago. It’s nice to talk to my friend and pretend for a little while that everything is normal.

Kim checks her phone. It’s getting toward dinnertime. I stand on the porch and wave as she starts her car. Just after she pulls away from the curb, a dark sedan slides to a stop in front of the house. A man with a backpack gets out. Is it the same guy from the bookstore? I head inside, slam the door quickly, and shoot the dead bolt.

Sadie and I hide in the laundry room, computer on my lap. I watch the man stride up the walkway. I peer closely at the black-and-white screen. I can’t tell if it’s the same man. Don’t know if he’s a reporter. But now that a body has been found on our property, they will come. People seeking me out by any means necessary. The coverage will escalate. There’s a sensational story here. Murdered psychologist. A missing woman found dead and some connection between them.