“Yes, of course. I’d keep her forever,” Anne admitted wistfully.

“Maybe you will.”

“I can’t think that way. I’m sure she has relatives somewhere. Everyone does, right?”

“That doesn’t mean she should go and live with them,” Franny said. “What if her relatives are toothless rednecks living in travel trailers in one of those fried food states in the middle of the country? Oh! What if they’re carnie people?” he asked, getting carried away with himself, as usual. “Next thing you know Haley’s in a sideshow as the Bearded Baby.”

Anne chuckled, appreciating the distraction that was her friend.

“This is a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon,” she said. “Good company, a hot drink, watching kids play.”

Franny smiled at her until his eyes disappeared.

“What?”

“You’re going to be such a good mom!” he said.

“If Vince and I ever get to sleep together again,” Anne said dryly.

“You’ve been staying with Haley?”

Anne nodded. “She’s having some pretty scary nightmares.”

“You know all about that. Has she named the k-i-l-l-e-r yet?”

“No. She calls him Bad Daddy. She says he was dressed all in black. Vince is going to bring home some kind of photo lineup of men who knew her mother. Maybe she’ll pick one out. But there’s always a chance the killer wore a mask.”

“Don’t you think he tried to k-i-l-l Haley because she could identify him? Why else?”

“Maybe he’s just plain evil,” Anne said. “How about that?”

“Mommy Anne!” Haley called as she came running from the other end of the room. “Look at my dolly Wendy gave me!”

“That’s a really special doll, isn’t it?”

“I’m gonna call her Kitty,” Haley announced, “because I want a kitty.”

“Okay! That’s a good name!”

Anne rolled her eyes at Franny as Haley scampered away. “We’re lobbying heavily for a kitty.”

“She couldn’t be cuter if she was my child,” Franny said.

The front doorbell rang and Anne jumped like she’d been given an electric shock. She could almost feel the blood drain from her face. This was part of her post-crime sentence, to panic at the sound of the doorbell when she wasn’t expecting anyone.

Franny frowned. “I’ll see who it is.”

Anne followed him at a distance to the front of the house, trying to calm herself, to tell herself there was no reason to panic. Peter Crane was sitting in jail. He wouldn’t be on the other side of her door ready to attack her.

No. It wasn’t Peter Crane at the door, but a whole other kind of threat Anne realized as she heard Franny say, “Maureen Upchurch. How’s your nephew? Has he been incarcerated yet?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Unlike some people, I have friends,” Franny said.

Anne moved around him to see Maureen Upchurch and Milo Bordain on her front step.