But strangely, Andrea had received no phone calls from her father, or her brother, or any reporters. Not even any hang-ups. She called a few friends back in New York who knew about her transition, but no one seemed to have heard any brewing stories about her. She even tried her brother, Max, thinking maybe the family had been informed first. She and Max were on speaking terms, but they were more like distant cousins who only caught up once every few years. Max certainly didn’t know anything personal about Andrea, including her transition, but she hoped he would be cooler than Cynthia. But all she got was his voicemail.

So once again, she’d turned to Jerry. He promised to look into it and, if needed, pay off the journalist who’d gotten the tip and called her mom. (Andrea had a hunch Jerry became used to paying off journalists when he worked for her father.) Jerry also assured her that she wouldn’t be charged for doing anything to Piper—there wasn’t enough evidence, at present, that Andrea had hurt her. It wasn’t great that Andrea was inside a locked school building, he added—Andrea would have to beef up her story about that.

Now, Andrea turned onto a busier road that led to the business district and checked her rearview. No one was tailing her. Was it possible the reporters didn’t know? But then who had called her mom? Cynthia knew specific details about what had happened—Piper’s name, that she’d been found on the floor outside her office, even the name of the police precinct Andrea had been taken to.

Someone knew. And usually, that meant the press—all the press—probably wasn’t far behind.

This morning, Ronnie had sent up her own flare. They chose to convene at a secluded walking trail at the edge of town. The trail was too out of the way for the mom set, who preferred to stroller-cize on the beach paths or the walking trail closer to the playground. It was also drizzly this morning, which would drive even more people away. When Andrea pulled the car into the lot, Ronnie’s and Lauren’s cars were the only others there.

She stepped out, pulled up the hood of her raincoat, and listened. The only sounds were the swishes of the trees and the spatter of rain. An airplane groaned high overhead.

Ronnie and Andrea were waiting behind a big sign that listed all the path’s rules. When Andrea rounded the corner, Lauren quickly stubbed out a cigarette. “Sorry,” she blurted guiltily. “I haven’t smoked in years. But I’m kind of losing my mind.”

“It’s okay,” Andrea said quietly. “We all are.”