All Ronnie could see, suddenly, was Piper flailing like a wild animal in her hospital bed, pointing at Ronnie and saying, I’m sorry I’m not the person you need me to be. And thinking Ronnie was a guy. She pushed it out of her mind, but it bounced right back in. It’s possible Piper didn’t think Ronnie was a guy—she was speaking to Ronnie about a guy, giving her a warning Ronnie could convey to this guy because she knew this guy best?

Then she thought of something else, something that had been jabbing at her for a few days now. “Be right back, honey,” she told Esme, and headed down the hallway.

She yanked open the same desk drawer where she’d found the lists Lane kept of all the parents at Silver Swans. The book was still there, and so was the curious silver key Ronnie had noticed but dismissed.

She lifted it to the light. The tiny key had an unusual square head and a tiny, slender shaft, just the type that would slide into a file drawer. Ronnie had held a similar key only one other time—in Piper’s office, when she’d unlocked the drawer containing the school’s doctored financial documents. She’d never seen the same sort of key before, and certainly they didn’t have any furniture that would fit it. Theoretically, this could be to some old piece of furniture Lane had now parted with. But something told Ronnie that if she used this on that drawer to Piper’s desk, the lock would turn, and the drawer would slide open.

She sat back on her haunches. What did this mean? Probably nothing. But maybe something?

Lane and his scruples. Lane and his admiration of Piper. Had Lane figured Piper out? Had he left his classroom that day to tell her what he knew? He wouldn’t have wanted anything from her. It was for the principle of the thing. His idol had fallen. But then . . . but then what? Had she pushed back? Had they . . . fought ?

She dared to imagine it. Had things gotten out of hand? And then, afterward, what? Surely he hadn’t gone straight back to his classroom—he would have never been able to collect himself in time.

Ronnie closed the key in her palm. But if that was true, did that mean Lane had been the one to hurt her? She pictured the tears in his eyes in the aftermath. I’m so sorry, Lane had whispered. Because he hadn’t been able to shield her from the police, because this was happening to her, because it seemed unfair. But what if I’m so sorry was an admission of guilt?

Ronnie didn’t know what to do with this blender of thoughts. Was she living with a violent man?