Sherilou shifted her purse and books, then shook hands with Bentz. “Glad to meet you,” she said, though it was a patent lie. Her eyes were filled with suspicion and her handshake was weak. Unsure.

“I’d better scoot,” Sherilou said with a false smile at Rick.

“Nice to meet you,” Bentz said as sun glinted off the hood of Tally’s VW.

“You, too.” To Tally, she added, “Look, I’ve got to get going.”

“See you tomorrow,” Tally said and Sherilou hurried off, easing her book bag into the back of a blue Prius before sliding behind the wheel. Tally watched her go, then turned to Bentz and squinted up at him. “How’s Kristi?” she asked. “She and Melody lost touch.”

“Good. Getting married later this year.”

“I’ll pass that along to Melody. She’s married, too. Has a three-year-old and expecting another.” Tally rolled her eyes as she pulled pictures out of her wallet and proudly showed Bentz two snapshots of a towheaded little girl. The smiling imp posed with a stuffed animal, a white rabbit, in front of a blue backdrop.

“Cute,” he said and meant it.

“Yeah. Who would have ever thought of me being a grandma?” She stuffed the wallet back into her purse, but her eyes twinkled. “It’s so weird. I love it.”

“I’ll bet.”

She caught his sober tone and let out a long sigh. “So. Tell me. What do you want to know and why?” As she loaded her book bag and purse into her Volkswagen Beetle, Bentz told her. While the sun lowered and a few straggling kids hurried from the school, he explained everything. Except about the fact that he thought he was actually seeing his dead ex-wife again; he kept that little detail to himself.

She was quiet. Stunned as he passed her the copies of the pictures he’d received as well as a copy of the marred death certificate.

“For the love of St. Peter.” Shaking her head in disbelief, Tally held the photograph of Jennifer sliding into her car up for closer inspection. “It—it can’t be Jennifer,” she said, slightly unsure, squinting up at Bentz for confirmation. “You and I both know that. We were there…at the funeral. She was in the coffin.” The picture in her hands began to tremble as Tally stood at the open door of her car. “I mean, it’s just not possible.” But her voice was faint, a whisper. She cleared her throat; squared her shoulders, took control again. “This woman in the picture, she, um…she’s a dead ringer.”

“It appears.”

“But not Jen.” Tally didn’t sound convinced. “Someone…someone’s playing a game with you. Yeah, I get that, but honestly, I don’t know what you want from me, what I can tell you.” She glanced down at the picture again. Visibly shivered.