Tyler stopped rubbing his wife’s shoulders, tightening his grip.

“I’ll go check on her,” he said.

He took his hands off her shoulders and watched her head sink to the tabletop, where she resumed weeping.

He stepped up the stairs quietly, his throat so tight the ascent winded him.

The only light in the upstairs hallway came from the window, through the leaves of the plant Karen had bought for Mandy’s first Christmas. Mandy had cared for it, and it had refused to die in the neglect of her absence. Instead it had become feral, growing to fill the window and wrapping itself around the curtain rod.

Tyler stared into what light shone through the leaves as he rested his hand on the doorknob of Mandy’s room. The door wasn’t latched. He pushed it open and poked his head through the opening, breathing as quietly as he could.

She stood on the far side of the bed, facing the doorway. She stared down at the bed, her hair curtaining her face and twisting over her shoulders, like the plant in the window. Her shoulders hunched and her arms hung limp at her sides. Her stance was rigid, tense and alert. A pool of water spread at her feet, creeping under the bed and across the room.

Tyler pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

“Mandy?”

Her head snapped up; her neck cracked. She stared at him.

He swallowed. If this girl was an informant, he had to act natural.

“Honey, do you want some breakfast?”

She didn’t move or answer. She stared at him, and water dripped from her hair.

Tyler backed out of the room and shut the door. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, leaving a stippled stain of sweat. He walked down to the living room and sat on the couch to compose himself before Karen saw him. He breathed deeply and counted to thirty, then got up and walked into the kitchen.

“I think she’s asleep,” he said.

“Oh, good,” Karen said, covering her face with her hands. “She needs the rest. God, she looks awful. Half dead. What do you think she’s been taking?” She began to cry again. “Should we take her to the hospital? Does she need rehab or a psychiatrist? What am I supposed to do?”

“Let’s just give her a few days,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down Karen’s folded arms. “She’s obviously been through a lot and had a bad shock. We’ll know better what she needs when she’s rested and well-fed.”

Karen nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her face into his neck. He could feel the dampness of her tears creep down the collar of his shirt. He wanted a shower.

“Why don’t you go get some rest, too? I’ll wait for Mandy and get you when she’s awake, okay?”