Hollow as she was, she had no appetite. Except for these tales of horror. Had she been feeding on them to help deflect her own pain?

Izzy picked up Cyrus’s phone. She typed in a random series of numbers.

Nothing. A waste of a precious chance. She should have at least made an educated guess.

Nephy texted her, then: Meet me & Seth @ Alamo 4 breakfast 2morrow…worried

◆◆◆

Izzy agreed to see Nephy and Seth early that day, before her search. She needed to eat, and maybe seeing her friends would do her good. But even just the photographs of margaritas, shrimp, tacos, and rare meat decorating the pale blue, red-trimmed façade of the little Mexican place made her stomach queasy, especially this early in the day.

A short time after she’d been seated, Seth’s truck pulled up outside. He and Nephy got out. She wore her hair in braids under her straw cowboy hat. Her leg muscles gleamed with oil between the cut-offs and cowboy boots, and her belly seemed to have popped out some more. Inside of her, a baby swam.

Seth walked in ahead, his gait stiff. He held the door open behind him for Nephy, like an afterthought. Instead of the usual goatee, he wore a full beard, and without his bandana Izzy could tell, for the first time, really, that his hairline had begun to recede. But it was, of course, her hair that became a subject for discussion. She touched her head; it felt bumpy, boyish, and small.

“Izzy,” Nephy said when they saw her. “What did you do?”

Izzy shrugged.

The waitress came to take their order—huevos rancheros all around, although Izzy, getting a whiff of the eggs, chilis, and oil, doubted she’d be able to eat much. She looked at Nephy across the table. Something was different about her, too. Makeup. She had makeup on her face. Nephy wore mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick—never base makeup. A bruise showed underneath, a faint stain on her cheek.

“What happened to your face?” Izzy asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Nephy said. “I fell.” She glanced quickly at Seth, and then away.

“You’re pregnant. You have to be careful.”

Nephy pursed her lips in distaste and touched her hair with her acrylic-tipped fingers. “Seriously, why’d you cut your hair?” she asked.

Izzy said, “It would get in the way.”

“In the way?”

“I’ve been searching the mines.”

Nephy and Seth exchanged a look. “What mines?” Seth asked.

“In Joshua Tree. They found something in one.” She made herself say it: “Remains.”

“Remains? Human remains? Shit, Izzy, you hear how you sound?” Seth pushed up his shirtsleeves, agitated, and Izzy saw the old burns, still visible there, under his tan. The smell of cigarettes wafted off of him.

“I know how I sound. I don’t have a choice. Someone has to do something—”

Nephy said, “I know this has been hard for you—”