Susan sat in her Saab watching as the police cars parked around her pulled away and headed south toward Lake Oswego. With its wide streets and half-empty warehouses, the produce district always looked particularly empty at night. She cranked up the heat. The radio was reporting that a young woman had been found dead in Lake Oswego and that police were investigating. Susan listened intently. The story was oblique—they didn’t name Lisa Watson, and there was no reference to Gretchen. They described the death as a “suspicious drowning.” The radio announcer went on to another story, some remains had been found up river—they thought it might be a flood victim. Susan stared at the car radio, a flutter of excitement in her chest. Any minute now, the Herald would go live with the story that Gretchen Lowell was back in the area, and then the around-the-clock coverage would begin. There would be no time for any other story then.

A knock on Susan’s car window made her jump.

Henry’s hulking figure loomed outside. He had delivered her to her car by the elbow, deposited her inside, and then closed the driver’s-side door. She’d thought he’d continued to his own car. Now she wondered if he’d been standing there this whole time.

He probably had.

She turned down the radio and rolled down the window. The knob had come off the window crank, so this took a lot of effort.

Henry pointed at the LOADING ONLY sign adjacent to the hood of her car.

“I know,” she said quickly. She had parked in the loading zone because it was the closest spot to the door and she’d been rattled enough when she got there that she didn’t want to walk half a block in the dark by herself. “Sorry. I was in a hurry.”

A gray sedan stopped in the street behind Henry, its headlights slicing through the darkness. “Henry,” Sanchez’s voice called, “you’re riding with Claire, right?”

Henry looked over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said. “See you there.” Sanchez peeled away and Henry turned back to Susan. “Straight home,” Henry said. He hesitated. “You want me to follow you?”

Susan glanced around at the desolate surroundings. Maybe it wasn’t so insane to let Henry give her an escort, just for his peace of mind.

“Say the word,” Henry said. “They can do this without me.”

Claire’s Ford Fiesta pulled up behind Henry and stopped where Sanchez had just been. Claire idled there, waiting.

Henry raised his eyebrows questioningly at Susan.

She was being an idiot. It was only a few miles. And there were cops at the other end. “I’m fine,” Susan said. She gave Henry a small salute. “Straight home. Promise.”

“Okay,” Henry said. He looked up, over her car, at Archie’s building for a moment, and then he tapped the hood of her car with his hand. “Go,” he said.