I walk slowly down the hall and into the kitchen, gripping my arms across my stomach. My gaze shifts first to the coffee maker, as if it could tell me what happened to my husband, then out the back window. Yellow crime-scene tape crisscrosses the office door. I don’t ever want to go in there again. In fact, when spring comes, I’ll have it torn down and plant a garden there. Maybe a traditional English garden full of roses and peonies, perennials that will come up and bloom every year. I’ll ask Scott about it.

“What?” Corrine is beside me.

“I didn’t say anything.” Or did I? Was I talking aloud to myself? Who knows? I feel half out of my head.

“You sure you want to stay here tonight by yourself?” Corrine asks.

“Yes.” I brush past her. “It’s chilly in here.” I walk down the hall and see that the cellar door is ajar. My heart pounds. I slam the door shut, slide the lock, and lean against it. I take a deep, slow breath. The cops must have done it—of all the doors to leave open. “You want to put the kettle on?” I call on my way back into the kitchen. Corrine is going through a stack of envelopes she collected from the mailbox. She’s like that, more of a parent than a big sister. Maybe because she’s nine years older than I am. Or maybe it’s because she and our parents always treated me like a child, like I’m stuck at six years old.

“Sure.” She drops the mail on the counter and puts on water for tea.

I sit at the table, the same spot where I sat and talked to Sergeant Simmons two days ago. I watch Corrine pull mugs out of the cabinet, grab the box of tea bags. She knows her way around my kitchen. I usually resent her intrusiveness, her sense of ownership over my life. But now I don’t care. She could’ve opened my mail and read it, for all I care now. Everything is different.

“I can’t stay all day, Molly,” Corrine says, placing a mug in front of me. “I have two meetings this afternoon.”

“I didn’t expect you to stay.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “I don’t like you here alone.”

I shrug. “I’ll be okay,” I say, although I’m not sure I will be. “Detective Myers is stopping over later. She said they would have a police officer drive past the house the next few nights, if I want.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess. Why don’t you call a security company? They should be able to have someone out here by tomorrow. You want me to do it?” She’s already on her phone.

“Fine, sure.”

My landline phone rings while Corrine is talking to the security people. It’s Laken. I walk into the living room while we talk. I half-hear her but manage to make intelligent responses, then hang up. I pick up the wedding picture of me and Jay that sits on the mantel and carry it back into the kitchen.