‘You just met me,’ Peach said. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

Annalie accelerated again. The engine rattled.

‘Your parents were killed when you were eight,’ she said. ‘Your oldest brother was murdered when you were twelve. The guy you worked with for a whole year just got shot selling cocaine. I guess I know some things, or at least how to find them. I’m a researcher, and I know how to read people’s faces, too. You’re not the mannequin you like to think you are.’

Mannequin.

It was probably nothing, but Peach didn’t like that Annalie used that word. As if it were a message: I know you, I know what you keep in your bedroom. You can’t hide from me. She didn’t like being grilled for her secrets. Everyone wanted something from her these days, and it all involved Justin.

‘Stop the car,’ Peach said.

‘Hey, sorry. I was out of line. I get in people’s faces too much. It’s a character flaw.’

‘I said stop. Pull over.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t do this. Not now. Not today.’

‘Look, Peach, I didn’t mean anything—’

Peach pushed opened the door of the Corolla while it was still moving. Annalie jerked on the brakes, and horns wailed behind them. Peach undid the seat belt with clumsy fingers and spilled into the street, ignoring Annalie, who shouted at her. She left the car door hanging ajar and ran between the pink condos for the Gulf beach.

*

The water was hot. It didn’t cool her down at all. Peach’s bare toes squished in the wet sand. The cuffs of her jeans were soaked. She’d tied the laces of her Chuck Taylors together, and she spun the shoes from her hand like clunky tether balls. She walked, staring at the shells in the surf. She’d ran for a half-mile, ducking under fishing lines and dodging Frisbees that landed in the water. People looked at her because she was crying, but no one said anything. It was Florida. People broke up, and they went to the beach to cry.

Annalie was right. Peach had been lying to Deacon, and to herself, about feeling nothing. She’d been in love with Justin, and now he was gone, taken from her. Like her parents. Like Lyle. The emptiness was so great it made her want to swim into the deep water and drown herself. Justin had been someone she’d never anticipated, the one man she had ever invited to share her solitary existence. She had gotten up every morning, anxious to hear his voice and see his face. He made her smile.

They had sworn to be loyal to each other forever. No one else knew. Not Deacon or Caprice or Ms Fairmont or Ogden Bush. It was like being married, but better. They had something more sacred than love or sex.