Beth breathed in deeply and squared her shoulders. “My father left my mother when I was eighteen months old, he’s some kind of roofer but I don’t know much about him and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. My mother moved from Texas to Willits— that’s up north— then she left me to raise horses in Kentucky when I was eight. I have severe learning disabilities. We were always fighting over school and everything else. She always told me I was a hard kid to raise and when she moved away I figured it was my fault.”

Her knees pressed together, glossy-silver knobs in gray nylon.

“She always liked horses. My mother. Liked them better than me and I’m not just saying that. I used to think it was because I gave her problems. Now I know she was lazy, just wanted an animal that was easy to train.”

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 34

Beth Scoggins stopped talking and stared at the ceiling.

Allison said, “Hon?”

Beth lowered her head and nudged the purse on the floor with one shoe. Deep breath. Her tale of abandonment continued in a soft, flat voice.

Cared for by a widowed maternal grandmother who eked out a living running a thrift shop. Passing through school without learning much. Discovering boys and dope and alcohol and truancy at twelve, a habitual runaway by her thirteenth birthday.

“Grandma got mad but she always took me back. The cops said she could declare me incorrigible but she figured she had to be a responsible person.”

If she’d been my patient, I might’ve suggested that her grandmother cared about her.

This wasn’t therapy.

What was it?

“The last time, I ran all the way to Louisville. Took the bus and hitched and I finally found her after a week. My mom. She had different hair, had got skinny, was married to another horse groom and they had a baby, real cute, a little girl. Amanda. She didn’t look a thing like me. My mother was like freaked because I showed up. She couldn’t believe how big I got. She said I could stay. I hung around for a few days but I don’t like horses and there was nothing for me to do, so I came back. Grandma got liver disease from her drinking and died and they collected her junk from the shop in boxes and took it away. Some people from the state wanted to talk to me but I got out of there.”

She went silent again.

A history not unlike Troy’s and Rand’s. They’d murdered a child. This young woman was struggling to make it. Coming along nicely, until a stranger called.

Allison said, “You’re doing great, Beth.”