Another kid stood behind the counter, this one pimply-faced and chinless. He picked up a box of chicks. “I love these things.”

She fixed her eyes on the rack of tabloids. He ran the box over the scanner. Everyone in her building shopped at this drugstore, and a lot of them walked their dogs at night. What if someone wandered in here and saw her?

The boy held up a box with a torn cellophane window. “This is ripped.”

She flinched. “They’re…for my niece’s kindergarten class.”

“Do you want me to get another one?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“But it’s ripped.”

“I said it’s fine!” She’d shouted, and the kid looked startled. She contorted her mouth into a travesty of a smile. “They’re…making necklaces.”

He looked at her as if she were crazy. Her heart raced faster. He started scanning again. The door opened, and an elderly couple entered the store. No one she knew, but she’d seen them before. He scanned the last box. She thrust a twenty at him, and he scrutinized it like a treasury agent. The chicks lay scattered across the counter for anyone to see, eight purple boxes, six chicks to a box. He handed over her change. She shoved it in her purse, not bothering with her wallet, just throwing it inside.

The phone by the register rang, and he answered it. “Hey, Mark, what’s up? No, I don’t get off till midnight. Sucks.”

She snatched the sack from him and shoved the rest of the boxes inside. One fell to the floor. She left it there.

“Hey, lady, you want your receipt?”

She hurried into the street. It had started to rain again. She clutched the sack to her chest and dodged a fresh-faced young woman who still believed in happily-ever-after. Rain soaked her hair, and by the time she got back home, she was shivering. She dumped the sack on her dining room table. Some of the boxes spilled out.

She shrugged off her trench coat and tried to catch her breath. She should make herself a cup of tea, turn on some music, maybe the television. But she did none of those things. Instead, she sank into the chair at the foot of the table and slowly began lining up the boxes in front of her.

Seven boxes. Six chicks to a box.

Hands trembling, she started peeling off the cellophane and tearing open the flaps. Bits of purple cardboard dropped to the floor. Chicks tumbled out along with a gritty snow of yellow sugar.

Finally all the boxes were opened. She pushed the last remnants of cardboard and cellophane to the carpet. Only the chicks were left. As she gazed at them, she knew Bodie had been right about her. All her life, she’d been driven by fear, so frightened of falling short that she’d forgotten how to live.

She began to eat the chicks, one by one.

Chapter Twenty

Construction had clogged Denver’s midday traffic, dampening Heath’s already foul mood. For six weeks, he’d shown Delaney nothing but respect. This was his future wife, after all, and he didn’t want her to think he was only after her for sex. An image of Annabelle naked sprang into his mind. He gritted his teeth and laid on the horn of the rental car. The only reason he kept thinking about Annabelle was because he was worried. No matter how much he nosed around, he couldn’t find out for sure if she and Deanwere sleeping together.