“You were just a little girl,” Lauren said. A little girl Wendy Morgan’s age, a year younger than Leah.

“I made a bad choice. My friend died a terrible death because of it. I had to learn to live with that,” Tanner said. “That’s why I’m a cop. That’s how I pay back Molly Nash.

“I know people have told you to move on from losing your daughter Leslie,” she said. “And I have no doubt that people have told you not to let what happened be the defining moment of your life. I also know that’s all bullshit. You don’t let go of something like that, not ever. That tragedy will be one of the defining moments of your life. It has to be. Otherwise it was for nothing. And how tragic would that be?

“It’s what we learn and what we do to come out of that dark place that makes the difference,” she said. “For you, and for the daughter you have left.

“Anybody can pay penance, Lauren. That’s the easy part. Anybody can be a victim, and anybody can flog themselves. Big fucking deal. But you put one foot on a ladder and climb to the next rung. Then you’ve done something. Then you’ve made a difference. And then what happened matters. Otherwise, it’s just old news, and nobody wants to hear about it.

“There,” she said with a sheepish little smile as she slid off the stool and tucked her notebook in the breast pocket of the loose blazer she wore. “My big speech. We should let you get some sleep if you can. I’ve got to go find myself a hotel room.”

Lauren reached a hand out to her. “Thank you,” she said, really looking at Danni Tanner for perhaps the first time since she’d known her. “Really.”

Uncomfortable with the gratitude, Tanner made a funny little shrug and backed away. “Get some sleep.”

Chapter 63

63

Mendez followed Tanner out of Lauren Lawton’s hospital room. They walked down the dark hall without speaking, then took the elevator together down to the ground floor. Unfamiliar with Mercy General, Tanner looked both ways up and down the hall, uncertain which direction they had come from earlier.

Mendez put a hand on her back and guided her toward the ER. They walked out of the big sliding doors into the night that had grown cool and damp, and headed to the short-term parking. Seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Tanner started around the car for the passenger’s side.

“Danni,” Mendez said, finding his tongue.

She turned around and looked up at him, her face open and vulnerable in the grainy filtered light of the parking lot.

He reached his hand up and touched her cheek. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Please don’t make a big deal,” she said quietly.