Madeline and Lance are gone. Rebecca says she won’t tell, and I take her at her word.

Diana knows, but she’s my lawyer.

I’ve told Bowman the truth, but she seemed less concerned with that than with everything else. And I understand. She’s a cop. Not a literary critic.

“What a fucked-up day,” I say to no one. I don’t even have Grendel around to pretend to listen to me. And that’s the reality that really sets in for me now. After everything, I’m still alone. I’m still a guy with a dog and a book I didn’t write and a job I’ve managed to hold on to by cheating and not much else.

It all seems kind of pointless.

The front doorbell rings. I barely jump. I figure it’s Bowman or a reporter or who knows who else. I decide to ignore it even though the lights are on, and anyone who comes to the window and peeks in can see me sitting here on the couch.

They must have done that because someone knocks lightly against the glass.

“Go away,” I say. I doubt they can hear me, but it’s all I’ve got.

Then they knock again. Harder.

I stand up, turn to face the window.

Now I jump.

My hand goes to my heart like I’m a comedian faking shock. But I’m not faking. Everything in my body loosens, like I could slump to the floor.

It’s Zach Greenfield, his scruffy face pressed to the glass. His eyes wide so I can mostly see the whites.

It’s a no-brainer. I slide my phone out of my back pocket. I’m calling 911.

But he starts waving his hands around, asking me to stop. “Please. No,” he says. “Listen. Just listen.”

His words are muffled by the glass, his breath steaming against the window and then disappearing.

“Go away.”

“Please,” he says. “Please. Just listen to me. You don’t have to let me in, but you have to listen to me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. It’s over. Leave me alone.”

“Please,” he says. Real emotion is etched on his face, drawing lines of desperation on his cheeks and his forehead. “Just listen. For five minutes.”

Against my better judgment, I feel empathy for the man. He’s had his life wrecked. He’s lost someone he—maybe—cared about a great deal. Do I give him the benefit of the doubt?

I enter 911 into my phone but don’t press call. It’s ready to go if he makes one aggressive step. I walk across the room and pull the door open.