I STAYED UP MOST OF THE NIGHT WATCHING THE VIDEO FEEDS FROM the outside cameras. I wrapped myself in an old quilt and sat in the living room with my computer on my lap, flipping screens. I kept all the lights on inside and out. Sadie curled up on the rug by my side. I dozed off a time or two but tried to keep vigilant. Who could’ve called me? Why? Why now?

I’ve been bothered off and on over the years by a reporter or two looking to write a story or a book about me, and I’ve fended them off. The last thing I ever wanted was notoriety, a book with six-year-old me plastered on the cover. Black-and-white pictures stuffed in the middle, my hometown, my parents, Corrine and I smiling, dressed in our Halloween costumes. The thought makes me tremble. But no one’s ever contacted me this way, in a threatening manner.

Jay wouldn’t have told anyone. Was it someone from back home? But I haven’t been there in twenty-eight years. Surely no one is thinking about it anymore or would be interested enough in it to harass me. But this is what I’ve always feared. Someone will find out. Someone will make it public again, dig out the story like some long-slumbering beast. Make me the focus of hideous attention again. And then my Graybridge life will crumble in the dust. I will be outed and be that girl again. My friends will always see me through that lens.

I need Jay. I can’t survive this alone. I start to dial Corrine but kill the call before it connects. The sun has just barely risen, and the morning is gray and damp. I get up, grab Sadie’s leash, slip into my coat, and head out the front door. It’s early enough that people driving to work have their headlights on, and the traffic is still fairly light. Sadie and I walk in a new direction, new for her anyway. We turn before we get to the gas station and head along a wide road. It’s busier than mine, with bigger, grander, older homes.

Sadie trots along with me. Sensing my purpose, she doesn’t pull to stop and sniff. Elise’s house rises up from the misty morning. It’s a huge place and has been designated a historical site. Some Graybridge bigwig built it nearly two centuries ago.

Her car is still in the driveway, as I’d hoped. Elise answers the door, a napkin clenched in her hand.

“Molly! What brings you by so early? Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in a minute?”

“Of course, Scott and I were just finishing breakfast. Can I get you some coffee?” she asks as Sadie and I trail her down the hardwood hallway.