“Yes. I had to get away.” Her eyes run over me, assessing. “It was just what I needed,” I add.

“That’s good. Rest is vital.”

“How’s the case coming along?” Scott asks. “The cops find anything new?”

I shake my head. “Not that they’ve told me.”

“They talked to all of us. Did you know that?” Cal says, eyes narrowing. He leans against the counter.

“About what?”

“Last summer. The night of the Fourth when that woman was killed.”

“Huh.”

Scott sips his beer. “You still need that window replaced?”

“Yes. At some point. I’ll let you know.”

Kim walks in, with Willow behind her. “Juice, Mommy,” Willow says.

“Yes, sweetie. I’ll get it.” While Kim pours Willow’s drink, Josh comes in.

“Time for cake?” he asks, his eyes glancing at the clock. Kim nods and starts getting out the plates and flatware.

It all seems reminiscent of Jay’s party, and it’s hard to believe that was only a few weeks ago. So much has changed.

Josh carries the cake into the dining room, and we all gather around and sing. Kim bends over, eyes shining, and blows out the candles. I wonder if she made a wish. I would have.

The afternoon bleeds into evening, and I’ve had a little too much wine while dodging everyone who tried to maneuver me into an uncomfortable conversation.

I give Kim a hug. “I have to get going. I need to walk Sadie.”

She whispers, “Call me any time if you need to talk.”

“I will.” I scurry outside and take a deep breath, hoping the cold air sobers me up. I’m glad to be out of there and on my way back to my house and my dog.

* * *

Sadie and I hurry down the sidewalk. It’s dark, and I don’t want to be out here too long. At least the media hasn’t realized I’m back yet, but that will probably change. Corrine said they were camped in front of her building for a couple days after I left, until they figured out that I wasn’t there or at least wasn’t coming out. The traffic is light. It’s dinnertime, and most people are home or out at a restaurant. We approach the gas station, and I stand still for a couple of minutes. Maybe I ought to go in and pick up some snacks for the night. My pantry is just about bare. Two young men exit the building and glance in my direction. They’re muffled up in coats and gloves, hats pulled low. They light cigarettes, smoke tendrils wafting into the night, and jump into a pickup truck.