“How long have you been friends?” I asked.

“We reconnected a few years ago—thank God! Some of the other moms I know are straight-up bitches.” The way Suze tossed a glance down the street, I half expected to see legions of catty women in yoga pants, chubby toddlers propped against their hips. “I ran into Crissy at the nail salon a few months before I got married, and we just hit it off.”

“But school questions already? Erynn’s practically still a baby.”

“She’ll be three next month.” Suze shifted her weight. “You have no idea how complicated it is to navigate this stuff.”

Was there a hint of acrimony in her tone? “I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “Crissy’s not working today?”

“She only works afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s a small agency; they don’t get that busy. Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Minus the grade school primer.”

Suze shrugged. “Well, I better get going. I’ve got some errands to run before I pick up Erynn.”

“Daycare?”

“She’s with my mother-in-law.”

“You mean Cheryl?” The words, my tone, it all felt disingenuous. Suze and I were trying to revive a friendship that had been on life support for years. And that was going to make what I had to do next very difficult.

Suze narrowed her eyes. “You know Cheryl?”

I took a breath. “Not really. But listen, do you know anything about Cheryl dating Brett way back when?”

Again with the surprised expression. “Seriously? Is that true?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “It’s what I’m hearing, though.”

Suze sank her chin into the folds of her fleece scarf. “I feel like Crissy would have told me that? But I guess we don’t talk much about Robbie.”

“Well, I’d like to talk to Cheryl about it. Just in case she can help with the case.”

If this news alarmed Suze, she didn’t show it. “Cheryl’s a great lady, an amazing grandma to Erynn, and really supportive of me. I’m sure she’d be happy to answer your questions.”

She took out her phone and AirDropped Cheryl’s number and address. Then she said, “I’ve really got to go,” and after one more fleeting hug, she was off.

As soon as Suze drove away, I knocked on Crissy’s door.

No PJs for my cousin today. Her attire was business casual and fairly demure, apart from the hot pink button-down shirt popping open at her chest. Crissy oozed sarcasm when she said, “Perfect timing as always, cuz,” but I wasn’t taking no for an answer, and after I darkened her doorway for a moment, she let me in.

Today the miasma of perfume was even stronger, and I thought I detected an underlying stench of stale cigarettes.

“Cheryl Copely,” I said as we sat down on the couch. “What do you know about her relationship with Brett?”

“Cheryl?” Crissy’s tone was harsh. “You can’t just waltz back into town and start messing with people’s lives, Shana.”

The time I spent with Felicia had thrown Crissy’s long-simmering anger into sharp relief. Her mother might have accepted the true nature of my scar, but not Crissy. Those moments in the shed, when I stumbled, were unseen; it was my word against Abe’s. In his version of events, I’d fallen on a box of old gardening tools. I shrieked and grasped at my blood-slippery face while Abe, loving cousin that he was, went for help. Crissy and I never talked about it, but if this was the story she gave credence to, if she blamed me for Abe running away, it was no wonder she was pissed.