“Twelve. Leslie had just turned sixteen. Their relationship was a little difficult at the time. Leah worshipped her older sister, but Leslie was at that age. She wanted to be independent. She didn’t want to be bothered by a little sister. And Leslie and her dad were butting heads a lot. Leah didn’t like it.

“Leah likes things neat and tidy, everything and everyone in their proper place,” she said, picking at a dark stain on the thigh of her jeans.

“And suddenly nothing was in order,” Anne said.

“And then her evil mother uprooted her and made her move to a new town.”

“There’s a lot to be said for fresh starts,” Anne said. “And it seems like Leah has some structure to give her security now. She has her job at the ranch. She has Wendy for a friend. I’m happy to be a part of the equation. She doesn’t need to feel at loose ends. That should help.”

“Yeah,” Lauren said.

She wanted to get up and leave. She knew what was coming next. Next would be the How about you? How are you feeling? Have you dealt with your emotions? The usual therapist bullshit. And she would get annoyed and lose her temper and be a bitch and offend Anne Leone.

“You’re welcome to come too, if you like,” Anne said easily. “An evening full of children probably isn’t high on your to-do list, but if you don’t want to stay home alone . . .”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, staring down at the steaming mug of tea.

“I still can’t stay alone.”

Anne’s admission brought Lauren’s head up.

Anne shrugged. “It’s been five years. I still can’t go to my own front door if I don’t know who’s on the other side of it. When Vince goes out of town, a deputy comes and parks a cruiser in front of the house, or one of the off-duty guys comes by.”

“What happened?”

“I was abducted from my home by a serial killer,” she said matter-of-factly, like this was something that happened to every third person. “He would have happily added me to his list of victims, but his ten-year-old son distracted him at a crucial moment and I hit him in the head with a tire iron.”

Lauren practically had to pick her jaw up off the floor to say, “Oh my God.”

“See?” Anne said. “I wasn’t patronizing you when I said I know what it is to be a victim of a violent crime. I lived it. I live it every day. And every night.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lauren said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “I didn’t realize. I feel so stupid.”

Anne frowned and made a motion with her hand. “Don’t. I didn’t mean for that—”