I turned the book upside down and shook it, and a piece of paper fell out. I figured I’d discovered an old grocery list or a note she’d written the boy who sat beside her in fourth period in high school. I found it was something much less straightforward.

It was half a sheet of blank paper, and on it was written, “SO, MO, DA, NO.”

“If you’d left it in there, we’d know which section it fell from,” Hollis pointed out.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said absently. “I messed up. Does this mean anything to you?”

“No, not at first glance. But that’s her handwriting . . . Sally’s.”

There was a new note in his voice that penetrated even my overloaded emotional system.

“I’m sorry,” I said, making a great effort. “I know this is dredging up stuff for you that you’re trying to put behind you.”

“No, I’m not trying to put Sally behind me,” he said. “But I am trying to think about the rest of my life. And the ideas of the last few days, the idea that Sally was murdered, that the son of bitch who did it has been walking around this town, talking to me, free, has been curdling my gut. And the fact that every time I see you, I want to screw you so bad it hurts. You practically break in my house, my damn house, and I want to fuck you right here on the floor.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like he’d flipped a switch. Suddenly, I was thinking about it, too, thinking that it would feel good to forget about my problems for a few minutes, and I rolled over on my back and pulled my shirt over my head.

It was short and violent and the most exciting encounter I’d ever experienced. Nails and teeth, slick skin against slick skin, the thud of body against body. Afterward, he lay beside me on the floor in the small space we’d had available and said, “I need to vacuum.” He was panting heavily, and the words came out slowly.

“A few dust bunnies,” I agreed. “But they were good company.”

He wheezed as he laughed, and I pulled my bra back up because there was a draft along the floor. I rolled to my side and propped up on one elbow.

“I made your back bleed,” I said, looking from the scratches to my fingernails. “I’m sorry.”

“It felt good when it happened,” he said, and he was beginning to drift off to sleep. “I don’t mind.”

While he dozed, I rolled onto my stomach and flipped through the biology book. It was a very basic text, with chapters on plant cells and reproduction, the human nervous system, how eyes work, and . . .

I glanced at the scratches on Hollis’s shoulder and shook my head. I looked back down at the graph on the page.