I didn’t follow but let it go. Time for that later. “Do you know who the fathers are?” I asked.

Annaliese kept her gaze pointed at Tank. “Please don’t tell Nellie.”

“You have to explain the babies to the police,” I said.

“I don’t want to.”

“You have no choice.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Yes. I can.”

“I’m not a bad person.”

Standing there in the moonlight and rain, I realized a sad truth: Annaliese Ruben wasn’t a monster. She was simpleminded.

“I know,” I said softly.

I was reaching out when something over her right shoulder caught my eye. The needles on one pine seemed wrong, their edges too light amid the surrounding darkness.

I stepped to my left to see around Annaliese.

A beat, then a flicker, as though a torch had been lighted then quickly extinguished.

“Annaliese,” I whispered. “Did you come alone?”

I would never get an answer to my question.

A muffled crack broke the stillness. I saw a flash.

Annaliese’s mouth opened. A glob flew from her forehead, and a black hole appeared above her right brow.

With a terrified yelp, Tank pushed from his mistress’s chest and darted into the woods.

I hit the ground.

Another crack rocked the night.

Annaliese’s body bucked and rotated toward me. Then she dropped.

Belly to the earth, I scrabbled to her, pulling with my elbows and pushing with my feet.

Annaliese lay with her eyes wide open, as though startled by what had taken place. A black river ran from the exit hole, across her face, and into her hairline.

I pressed trembling fingers to her throat. Felt no pulse.

No! No!

I probed the soft flesh, desperate for vital signs.

Nothing.

Heart pounding, I tried to think. How many were out there? Had Annaliese been the target or had I?

Think!

What did the shooter expect?

That I’d run. Or stay to give first aid.

Do neither!

Keeping low, I crawled back to where I’d been when the shot rang out. Contact with the ground made me aware of a hard object in my pocket.

I held for a moment, straining my senses. Saw no light. Heard no movement.

I groped for my flashlight among the pine needles blanketing the ground. Finally, my fingers closed around it. Covering the glass with one palm, I shook the batteries to life. Then I arced the thing toward Annaliese’s body, keeping the bulb pointed away from the shooter. The flashlight landed with a soft tick, its beam barely visible above the groundcover.

I froze.

No gunfire.

No sound but drops hitting the boughs overhead.

I rolled to my side, dug the phone from my pocket, and held it close to my belly. Hoping against hope, I thumbed the indentation on the bottom front.

The screen flickered, went black.

I tried again, maintaining the pressure with my thumb.

For seconds.

Hours.