I heard a rustling that suggested she’d shifted the phone. “I’m only tired. I’m allowed to be tired, once in a while. Everything’s fine, and I just need some rest.”

“Don’t you lie to me.” I wasn’t sure why, but it was terribly important that Lulu be all right. My unease was mounting in my chest until it threatened to cut off my air. I found something awful and ominous in her lack of fortitude, and there was a number rolling through my head that I didn’t like. Eleven days. All the logic, reason, and sanity in the world couldn’t kick that thought loose and shoo it away.

“Lulu, don’t lie to me. Are you getting sick?”

“No, I’m not. I said I’m only tired. Now are you ready to come on home? Come on, they’re having a funeral for that girl Malachi killed. It’s tomorrow morning; you should go.”

“We weren’t friends,” I said, a little too fast to be as casual as I wanted to say it. It was true, we weren’t friends, but it sounded bad when I put it out loud like that. She was dead, and I knew her. The gravitational force of a southern funeral dictated that I attend, but there were few things I’d rather do less. I could safely bet that the media would be there, and it was an even safer bet that some damned fool with a microphone would want a word with me. I’d had about enough of that the first time Malachi struck, and I didn’t want to go through it again.

“She’s dead, and you were there when it happened.” She stopped blessedly short of pushing on to the most obvious point—that it was practically my fault she’d died. “Come on home anyhow.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Get done. Then get home.”

I wandered to the window, phone in hand, and pushed the curtains aside. “I will. But I’m not sure when. Not yet anyhow.” Outside, it was growing dark. I hadn’t realized I’d slept so long. In the parking lot, a streetlamp kicked on with a sputter and a hiss.

“Come back tonight. It’s not so far. You can make it by nine or ten if you hurry, and I know the way you drive. You always hurry.”

“Not tonight.” I held the curtain back and watched the fluorescent beams bounce off my car’s fresh wax job. Just then, something moved.

I started.

“Tonight!” Lulu insisted. “Get back here tonight! They’ve not caught Malachi yet, girl. Don’t you be hanging there, waiting like a sitting duck for him to come after you.”