“Hi, Karl!” she called as the two men neared the doorway. Karl wore his uniform and had one of those blackjacks attached to his belt. The sight of it made Anna’s heart pound. She imagined him using it on Jesse.

“Hey, Anna.” Karl and the other man, a rotund little fellow in a too-tight uniform, stepped inside the warehouse. “This is Officer Charles,” Karl said.

Anna nodded to the young officer. He looked about her age. “And you remember Jesse Williams, Karl,” she said, nodding toward Jesse. Her voice seemed to boomerang in her ears. She sent it out and it tore right around and back into her head again. Did she sound strange to Karl, too?

Jesse walked toward them, wiping his hands on his dungarees. He didn’t reach out to shake the men’s hands, though, and they didn’t reach out to shake his.

“We’d just like to ask the two of you a few questions, given as you knew Martin Drapple,” Karl said.

“Not very well,” Anna said, then added, “Hey! I haven’t seen Pauline in ages. How is she?” She remembered how her mother used to say, Hay is for horses!, and the thought made her chuckle out loud. Even she could hear the anxiety in the sound, so inappropriate to the conversation. All three of them stared at her. She only wanted to remind Karl that they were friends. Him. Pauline. Her. “How is she doing?” Anna had the feeling Pauline had cut her from her social life after the day she’d jumped to conclusions about her and Jesse. That terrible day. Anna couldn’t let herself remember it right now or she would fall apart. How much had Pauline told Karl about that morning? The blood on the ruined cot? Pauline would have had to tell him they weren’t getting their cot back. What else had she said?

“She’s fine,” Karl said finally, his voice businesslike. “Now, when is the last time you two saw Mr. Drapple?

Oh God. She wasn’t ready for questions about Martin. She should have thought about what she might be asked and rehearsed her answers. She looked at Jesse. “When was it, Jess?” she asked him, but she could tell by the look of stark terror on Jesse’s usually calm face that he was going to be no help. She’d grown accustomed to him taking the lead these days. Accustomed to him saving her, really. Right now, he was paralyzed with fear. She was a white woman; he was a colored man. Even though she’d been the one to kill Martin Drapple, Jesse was undoubtedly in far more danger than she was.