“That’s a story for another day,” he said, looking at her more carefully. Now that they were back inside and the sun wasn’t shining in his eyes, he was studying her again, a strange look on his face. He’s seeing my mother, she realized, and wondered how often the two of them had crossed paths. Her mother was gone so much on the so-called mission trips, but she supposed they’d stopped in town on their way in and out. Mostly, the people in this place were probably hungry for the gossip that came from the compound, gleaning information like the desert scavengers they were.

Rainy took her time walking to her seat, taking in the details of the place. Picking up her knife and fork, she cut into her pancakes. Her mother’s death hadn’t been mentioned anywhere: not in the papers or, years later, on crime blogs where ordinary people could pick over cases in detail. According to the world, there had never been a murder. Lorraine had died of an overdose. Another day, another drug addict: the police moved on after they interviewed people at the compound, who all confirmed that Lorraine had been using drugs. Furthermore, they told police that she was a deeply disturbed woman who often disappeared for months at a time, leaving her teenage daughter behind for them to take care of. Taured had backed up these stories, adding that Lorraine had been trying to hide her drug dependency and had come to him for help. In his statement to police, he’d said, “By the time she asked for help it was already too late, and she died the next day.”

Her grandparents had believed all of it. Given the years-long rift between them and Lorraine, and Rainy’s dad’s own drug problem, it was an easy thing for them to believe. Gilda and Mark hadn’t seen their estranged daughter in years, and they no longer knew anything about her. Rainy had been too traumatized to say more than a few words at a time; though her grandparents were better than Taured—their religious fervor seemed to have mellowed in the years Lorraine was gone, as they had even begun to watch a few TV shows—they were still strangers. And although they’d never said so, she thought they must have regretted how they treated Lorraine, how their behavior drove her from them and into the clutches of someone worse.

“That boy that served you them pancakes, he’s the big shot’s son.” Rainy’s fork stilled on the way to her mouth.