Later, after she started dancing, she talked about the abuse openly, like it wasn’t a big deal. She mentioned details, coloring books he’d bought her. He used to close the curtains and make her undress in the middle of the living room. He liked to sit in this big recliner while she watched TV naked. She liked this show, an after-school soap opera for kids called Tribes. I remembered it; I’d watched it, too. Danielle said a lot of the dancers at the club had been molested. She joked about it being a prerequisite for the job, that they might as well ask about it in the audition. The recliner, she said, was blue.

It was all such a long time ago. As I drove I thought, No one cares about that now.

I kept driving, longing for a silent, dark place, beyond the streetlights and the lights of the city. But the city never stopped, it reached and reached. There was no sky beyond the hovering, staining smog. I killed my headlights, as a test, and I could see the road easily, lit by the air. The grid stretched endlessly, inescapable. I made a U-turn on the wide road, headed to the center of town, wishing there was somebody who could help me, tell me what to do.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I slept terribly and woke too early, with echoes of Danielle’s voice in my head. I couldn’t believe she was gone, right when we were going to be friends again. I was pissed at Sally, too, for all the ways she hurt Danielle over the years. And then, two days after I put them in touch, Danielle wound up murdered. It had to be coincidence, but I felt uneasy. I wished I’d never gone to see Sally in the first place.

My thoughts turned to Michael. What right did he have to break up with me just when I needed him? I hated feeling this angry. To distract myself, I called work and asked for the manager, hoping he wouldn’t be there.

I waited a few minutes, sipping coffee and listening to the hold music. Andrew came on the line.

“Charlotte,” he said, “where were you yesterday?”

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I know I screwed up. This has been the worst week of my life. Please don’t fire me.”

“Charlotte, it was two days in a row. First you’re late, then you don’t show up at all, no phone call, nothing. I had to come in on my day off.”

“I’m so sorry, really. Look, my friend was killed on Tuesday.”

I didn’t mention Michael dumping me, or going to jail. I told him about the murder, and about Detective Ash, and that I’d been held by the police the whole night before I missed my shift. He listened. I think he believed me.

“I’ve already made the schedule for next week,” he said. “You’re not on it.”

“I understand.”

“Charlotte, take the week and get yourself together, okay?”

“Okay. I have to go to the funeral, anyway.”