He and Jack and Mary and his mother, having left John at Wausau General for observation, had arrived back at his parents’ house sometime around two—was it just this morning? It had been an hour that felt both very early and much too late. Wilma, stumbling up the back porch steps on Harry’s arm, was glassy-eyed with exhaustion; Harry worried that the day’s shocks had been too much for her. Once inside, he helped her off with her coat and led her through the hallway and living room and up the stairs, Jack and Mary following, at a funereal pace, toward the bright lights burning on the second floor. Astonishing, at this hour.

As they reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the source of the light, they saw JJ, stretched out on the bed in his room, propped crookedly on a pile of pillows, atop the covers, his bandaged stump protruding from his shorts, an empty decanter crooked in his arm. Mary gave a little gasp; Jack mumbled something to comfort her. Then Harry noticed: All the lights in the guest room—Anne’s room—were burning, too. Uneasiness crept up his neck. He passed Wilma off to Mary, who would put her to bed, and, standing in the door to JJ’s room, demanded to know where Anne was.

“Sorry, Uncle Harry,” JJ said groggily. “She left.”

“What do you mean she left?”

JJ’s eyes glinted with drunkenness. “I’m sorry, Uncle Harry,” he said again. “Guess she changed her mind.”

The house was cold, but Harry felt sweat popping from his pores. “Changed her mind about what?” he demanded. He felt a hand on his shoulder: Jack’s. He looked back at his older brother and saw pity in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Harry,” JJ said a third time, his eyes closing. His mouth twitched.

“What did she say?” Harry insisted, but JJ didn’t answer. He appeared to have fallen asleep.

Harry found the ring on the night table in Anne’s room. It figured, he thought. His luck hadn’t been bound to last long.

“Tomorrow,” Jack said, watching Harry from under the brim of his ragged hat, his hands folded in front of him like a night watchman’s. “Tomorrow you’ll go back to Superior and find out what happened.”

Harry looked at him.

“Mary and I’ll look after Mom,” Jack told him, in that tone you didn’t argue with.

Harry had slept fitfully, and Jack brought him to the train in the late morning. The day had not lost its nightmare quality, from the moment he’d found Anne was gone, to this moment, standing on her porch with the gray sleet tapping staccato on the roof.

The door opened. It was Anne’s blond friend, Linda. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

“Is Anne home?” he said.