“Harper helps people,” he said. “She’s one of a kind.”

“But she gets paid for it,” Nell said, outraged.

“Sure,” Tolliver said. “Why not? When you get to be a therapist, you’ll get paid.”

Mary Nell ignored this royally.

“And she can do that by herself. Does she have to have help?”

Hey, sitting right here! Listening! I spread my hands, palms up. Only Tolliver noticed the gesture.

“It’s not that she has to have my help. It’s that I want to give it to her,” Tolliver said gently. I looked straight down at my plate. Mary Nell abruptly excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. I had no intention of accompanying her—I would not be welcome—so Tolliver and I silently picked at the remnants of our food until she returned, her eyes red and her head held high.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said stiffly. We’d insisted on treating her. “I enjoyed it.” Then, holding her eyes wide and unblinking, she strode out of the dining room.

I watched her car pull out of the dark parking lot. I was a little surprised to find myself actually concerned about the girl. Her life was crashing in ruins around her, and that could make her careless. Too many things can happen to girls who don’t watch where they’re going. I find their corpses every year.

We got back to our motel in plenty of time for me to brush my hair and spray on a little perfume for my date. Tolliver watched without comment, his face harsh in the shadowy light of the room. “You got your cell phone?” he asked. “I’ll leave mine on.”

“Okay,” I said. Tolliver went into his room, shutting the door behind him very gently.

Hollis knocked on my door right on time. When I opened it, he said, “You look pretty,” sounding unflatteringly surprised. I was wearing jeans and a black blouse and some black heels. I wore a gold chain with a jade pendant, a gift from me to me after I’d gotten a bonus from a distraught husband who’d been looking for his wife’s body for four years.

Hollis looked pretty good himself, solid and blond in a new pair of jeans and a gold-and-brown plaid shirt. He’d shaved, and he smelled of some cologne. He’d made an effort. Maybe this was a bit more of a date than I’d imagined.

We went to a small dive a little north of town. It was built of dark wood and had plastic banners on long ropes tied from the building to the trees and lamp poles around the graveled lot. If the brightly colored triangles had been fluttering in some breeze, possibly the effect would have been cheerful and festive. In the chilly, still night air, the banners were simply depressing, forlorn reminders of failed festivity.