I took out and thumbed on my flash. Partly to light my way. Partly to let Ruben know I was coming.

Barely breathing, I hurried on.

I was almost at the tree line when a solitary figure took shape in the shadows. Indistinct. Smudged by the drizzle.

The figure remained motionless, the face a pale oval pointed my way.

I deliberated tactics. Cajole? Persuade? Coerce?

Come quietly. Let me help you. Or do I call the guys with badges and guns? What’s it going to be, Annaliese?

I continued walking, the light from my flash fizzing in the rain.

Please, God. Don’t let her be packing.

I entered the woods.

As though reading my mind, Ruben raised both arms and stepped into my beam.

She was short and probably classified as obese by medical standards. Her hair was long and dark, her face pretty in a pudgy-toddler sort of way.

Tank sat at her feet.

Ruben’s message was clear. She wasn’t carrying a weapon and meant me no harm.

Two pairs of eyes watched me close in.

Before I could speak, Ruben rotated slowly, arms straight out at her sides. Tank looped at her feet as though showing that he, too, posed no threat.

Ruben came full circle and faced me. Tank went bipedal and placed his forepaws on her knee. She did not reach down to pet him.

“We’ve been looking for you, Annaliese.”

“People told me.”

“We need to talk.”

“You’re scaring my sister.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I want you to stop.”

“I will if you agree to meet with the police.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll say I did bad things.”

“Did you?”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“You can lower your hands.”

She did. Tank jumped into her arms.

“Tell me about your babies.”

“Babies?” Her confusion sounded genuine.

“They’re why we’ve been looking for you.”

Lines creased her forehead. She looked down at the dog. He looked up at her. She scratched his ear. “I figured it was the men.”

“What men?”

“The men who gave me money.”

She thought we wanted to bust her for turning tricks.

“The police want to know what happened to your babies.”

She said nothing.

“Did you kill them?”

The rain had separated the fur on Tank’s head into spiky wet tufts. Ruben began plucking at them with quick nervous gestures.

“Did you hurt the babies?”

Her fingers grew more agitated.

“We found four, Annaliese. Three in Saint-Hyacinthe and one in Edmonton.”

“You found the babies.” Flat.

“Yes.”

“They died.”

“How?”

“They had to.”

“Why?”

“They couldn’t live.”

“Why not?”

“I gave them something bad.”

“Annaliese.” Sharp.

Ruben stopped pulling Tank’s fur and pressed him to her chest.

“Look at me.”

Her head came up slowly, but her eyes stayed down.

“I wrapped them in towels,” she said.

“What do you mean, you gave the babies something bad?”

“Something inside.”