I stared at the message. How could Suze know I was back in Swanton? I looked up from her tiny profile picture to see a cloud of my own breath. Beyond the windshield, the bay water rippled and shimmered, but there was no motion whatsoever on Crissy and Felicia’s street. Despite the sparse population, or maybe because of it, word traveled fast in this town.

After I’d worked for so long to keep my interactions with Swanton surface-level, this trip was quickly turning into a deep dive. Given what had happened to my uncle, I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less. I’d already visited my cousin after years of not seeing her. A chat with my ex–best friend couldn’t hurt.

Be right over, I typed, and Suze replied with an emoji of a candy-apple-red lipstick kiss.

Suze hadn’t bothered to give me an address because she knew I didn’t need one. Merchants Row was an unassuming strip mall in the center of town, and above the door of the very last retail space, where the line of beige buildings came to an end, a white banner emblazoned with a silhouetted dancer flapped in the wind. I hurried in, desperate to warm up and certain the studio would deliver. Inside, the air was so humid the window to the street dripped with condensation. The coatroom was packed with women whose exultant faces shone with sweat, and they gabbed and laughed as they pulled on their heavy jackets and winter boots. In no time I spotted Suze emerging from the brightly lit studio.

She was the same age as most of the women heading outside—my age, that is—and had their same post-workout glow, yet there was no mistaking the girl I used to know. Half Japanese with a ready smile, coal-black eyes, and cappuccino-colored freckles on her glossy cheeks, she’d always been striking, especially in a strappy tank and snug jeans. The ends of her hair used to reach her lower back where, if senior year rumors were true, she’d gotten a butterfly tramp stamp. That hair was chin-length now, pushed back with a headband, and though her clothes were of the workout variety, I caught myself feeling self-conscious in my sweater and ratty jeans.

Suze noticed me hovering and bounced on her feet. “Shana,” she gasped, pulling me into a hug. “Wow. It’s really you.”

“It’s great to see you.” The warmth coming off her body was intense. When she let me go, I wriggled out of my coat.

“Sorry. Hot as balls in here; these ladies work up a sweat.” Her smile was wide in a way that felt wholesome, like Crissy’s before she grew up.

“This place new?” I didn’t remember seeing it. I could have missed it on my trips through town, though. I’d been looking for a serial killer, not a fitness class.

“Coming up on three years, if you can believe it. I sure can’t. It’s been going well, actually. Better than I hoped.”

“You own it?”