“I wasn’t there to kill you. I was put up to it. I was supposed to kill your blonde friend. He paid my bail. You’re mine, Gloria. I would never hurt you like that. You have to believe me.”

“You were there for Harper?”

Glenn nodded his bloated head. “Her foster dad or some shit’s in here. She put him in here. He wanted to put her in the ground. But you gotta believe I’d never do that to you. I told the cops everything. You’re mine. I take care of what’s mine.”

With disgust and pity, Gloria stared at him one last time. “I’m not yours. I never was.”

She hung up and, without a look back, walked out of the visitation room, oblivious to the guards rushing him as he railed against the glass.

She’d crossed one Diller off her list. But there was a second one that was a constant reminder of her ugly past. What could she do about Mrs. Diller? The restraining order was good for a while. But they shared a town. Would she have to see this woman for the rest of her life and be reminded forever?

Gloria pulled up in front of the little clapboard house still not sure what she was doing. She could offer her money if the woman promised not to try to act out any Glenn-fueled revenge. But the thousand dollars she’d saved seemed like it wasn’t enough. Perhaps she could at least buy a temporary truce. Some purchased goodwill.

The weeds of summer had shriveled up and died in the first lick of winter, leaving behind colorless corpses against the front porch and sidewalk. There was a For Sale sign with a bright, bold Sold sticker. A pile of boxes towered on the front porch, and a new-ish sedan was parked in the gravel driveway.

Mrs. Diller’s puke green Buick was nowhere to be found.

Gloria debated for a moment and slid out from behind the wheel. She knocked and shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat, hunching her shoulders against the cold.

The inner door opened, and Mrs. Diller glared at her. “You can tell your boyfriend I’m leaving tomorrow,” the woman snapped.

Boyfriend? Leaving tomorrow? Gloria was at a loss. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Mrs. Diller huffed. “My sister. She lives in Illinois. Her husband died last spring of the lung cancer.”

“So you’re moving out there?” Gloria couldn’t believe her luck, her bright, beautiful luck. All she’d needed to do is figure out what she really wanted, and everything fell magically into place.