He nodded, but he looked sick with worry. His sweetness registered; he cared so much about these details. I could not, yet. I felt as if my entire body had been filled with waiting. It stretched out in front of me as far as I could see. We were on the hilltop waiting for the first responders. Once we were home, I would be waiting for Coral’s letter. And her daughter. I was waiting for Lexie most of all, even then.

In my mind she wasn’t the woman from the mug shot, with her picked, grayed skin and thin hair, middle-aged and brittle. She was the fresh-faced, pretty girl that Trey had known. I half expected her to come at us right now, screaming out of the trees, her wide-set eyes lamplit by rage.

Robert and I both had to go and get checked out at the hospital. Everyone was so kind to me. We were the victims after all. A policeman talked to me there, but just a little. A few questions. There would be more later. By then I’d have a lawyer with me. Trey had called to put Leticia Marks, Gabrielle’s friend, on retainer. He’d called his family, too, and his father was mobilizing a fleet of lawyers and publicists. The Cabbats had a vested interest in keeping details out of the press. This distant flurry of activity mattered little to me in the moment, and yet I thought that one day I’d be grateful for it.

Trey was the one who called my mother. She brought the girls home, and he sat them down and told them all an extremely expurgated version of the weekend, while I sat quiet, Robert in my lap, my daughters pressing in close against my sides.

That night Leticia sat by me in my own great room as I gave my statement to the police. Marshall had already given his. I stuck to his story, truthful about all things except that one, my answers short and broken. It was easy to follow his instructions, because I could not stop crying.

The whole time Lexie Pine was a blur of motion that kept catching in the corner of my eye. I felt her breath in every breeze that touched my neck. I heard the whisper of her feet in every hallway.