Jordan got out of the car and listened as Avery opened the back door and unfolded the cane. She slipped the wrist strap over Jordan’s hand and wrapped her fingers around the leather grip. The weight of the cane still felt strange, and as she stood there, her world shifted closer toward forever darkness. Her old self was fading, and this new person emerging was a stranger to her.

“Ready?” Avery said.

She drew back her shoulders. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to come inside?” Avery asked.

“It might help Mrs. Andrews relax if you’re there. Your presence might shake something loose.”

“People do like to talk to me,” she said easily.

Jordan placed her hand on Avery’s elbow, and using her cane, she moved slowly forward. She paid close attention to the ground under her feet, which normally would have been a nonevent. But rocks, roots, and clumps of dirt were now obstacles to negotiate.

Avery pointed out the two steps at the porch stoop and estimated there were three paces to the front door. Doorbell was at three o’clock, and she allowed Jordan to fumble around for it. Her fingertips skimmed the smooth button, and when she pressed it, a bell chimed in the house. Victory.

“Should we stand to the side?” Avery asked. “You always said domestic calls can be dangerous.”

Remembering her training, she tugged Avery to the right side of the door with her. “You should be a cop.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Jordan imagined her sister in the police academy, her wild blond hair tied back, a uniform on her slim body, and heavy laced-up boots on her feet. She shifted to Avery running down an alley at night, alone, chasing a guy accused of assault or rape. Or storming into a house where an enraged husband held his wife at knifepoint. “That’s for another day.”

Footsteps inside the house silenced Avery’s response, but Jordan knew this topic would come up again. The door opened, and Jordan shifted in the general direction of the noise. A familiar scent of plywood and oil reminded her of the hardware store where Mrs. Andrews worked.

“Detective Poe,” Mrs. Andrews said.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me. This is my sister, Avery Poe.”

“I heard you were hurt pretty bad,” Mrs. Andrews said.

“Yes.”

“You look okay now.”

“I can’t see.” Jordan raised her white cane. “That’s why my sister is here. Do you mind if we come in?”

“Sure. Come on inside. Just got off from work, so the house is a bit of a mess.”

The walls in the house felt close, and judging by the sound and space, she sensed there was a good bit of furniture and knickknacks. The air smelled dusty. Avery guided her toward a couch that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke.