The spare room is painted flint-gray, like pictures I’ve seen of stone walls in Scotland. There’s an antique chair in one corner, and a black-and-white photo on the wall of a crow in a winter tree. For two days, it watches me while I try hard to sleep and eat. The only lifeline I still have to my son is the breast milk Family Services say they’ll allow me to send to him, so I need to keep my body going. They’ve exchanged my living child for a breast pump, and they expect me to be okay with it. Morris hasn’t even come by to pick up the milk yet. All night long I worry about what Will is being fed.

By the third day, Sully forces me out into the kitchen, where I sit and watch the rain, the bony trees beginning to rattle the windows. With my eyes open or closed, all I can see is my son. The chocolate-brown of his eyes, the soft curl of his hands. My desperation to see him is like a thirst. Everything about me is parched.

“They can’t deny you access to your son,” Sully says through the first week, putting cup after cup of coffee in front of me that I struggle to drink. “They might have removed him, but you have a right to see him. I don’t know what’s taking Morris so long.”

Alex. She’s what’s taking him so long. I found out that they placed Will with her the same day they took him away from me, that he’s there with her at the loft, and when Sully told me that, I felt sick to my stomach. The only hope at the moment is Chase, who seems to have fooled Alex into thinking that he’s still on her side. He’s a spy for us. But he’s fighting an uphill battle. Everyone has played into Alex’s hands. Even me. I came to Moses River so intent on mending things, so certain that, in spite of all that had gone wrong in the past, sisterhood was an inescapable bond. I wanted our relationship to change, and it has. It’s found all new ways to get worse.

Seven days have gone by since I got out of the hospital, when Morris finally shows up at Sully’s front door. He stands on the front step, holding a black umbrella over his head as the rain pounds. Once we’ve gotten Gravy under control, Sully invites him in. But Morris shakes his head.

“I can’t stay, I’m afraid. I just popped by to see how everyone’s managing.” His eyes dart from me to Sully. “And to tell you that Will’s fine. He’s absolutely fine. Thriving. But if you’ve got any breast milk at all, I’d be very happy to drop it off.”