“She probably hitched a ride when she left the Berrys’. Faster to get to the mall than walking. It’s the only way it could have happened, really, that she went along with it.”

Rose felt shocked. “You mean, it’s all her fault?” Daniel looked surprised. “No, nothing like that. I just meant it was probably someone she knew. Somebody she trusted.”

“But it makes it even more horrible.”

“I’ve heard that most murders are committed by people the victims know.” Daniel looked so pleased with his theory, Rose felt a twinge of distaste.

“Wonderful,” she said sarcastically.

“Well, what do you think happened?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, if you don’t mind,” she snapped.

“Okay, fair enough,” Daniel said, unperturbed, and looked at her as if waiting for the next move. But Rose couldn’t think of anything to say after that. It was sickening. What did people talk about before Nancy disappeared? she wondered. When she got off the bus she heard Daniel say goodbye. Softly, softly, underneath the words there was still a promise. Wasn’t there?

She was thankful for dance class. She could forget anything once she was out on the floor working. Only the movement and the music mattered, her muscles responding. She’d been studying with Muriel for five years, ever since Muriel came to town one snowy Christmas and opened up her school. It had been like a dream come true for Rose, a real teacher from New York instead of plump Mrs. Drury who taught ballet and tap in the basement of her home. Muriel had introduced Rose to modern dance: bare feet and freedom of movement instead of the constricting toe shoes and exacting positions of ballet. More than anything, Rose wanted to go on to study in New York. But was she good enough? Muriel said she was the best student she had, but Rose wasn’t naive enough to think being the best dancer in Bethboro, Connecticut, meant the best in New York City.

Muriel wasn’t just a teacher, she was a friend. They talked about things Rose couldn’t discuss with her mother. Muriel listened differently and responded differently. Her advice never sounded like advice at all. If Rose had a problem, Muriel would say, “Sit in it like Buddha.” Sit in it — experience it — live it — know it, and the answer would appear. Muriel had the kinds of ideas nobody else had. She seemed mysterious and glamorous, and Rose often wondered why she had come at all to a small town like Bethboro because although she was here, it was as if part of her was somewhere else at the same time.