A police cruiser was easing down the alley toward us, tires crunching over old gravel. From the outline of the driver, I knew it wasn’t Cal. Too bulky, not tall enough, and my stomach took a steep dive even as I told myself to stop it. Nothing to be scared of. I was a victim’s mother now, someone to be handled with kid gloves.

The cruiser pulled up alongside us, and the driver’s window went down with a whir. “Hey there, Thomas,” Land said, eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses.

Thomas didn’t respond other than a faint nod. Land’s job might have been to protect and serve, but those duties always came with a little dose of attitude when the person Land was protecting and serving had some extra pigment to their skin. Like he wasn’t doing his job, he was doing them a favor. And they’d owe him eventually. The half smile slid off Land’s face as he turned to look at me. “Eve,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” I said without moving.

“In private,” Land clarified.

“Why don’t you two come on inside,” Thomas said. “Have a cup of coffee while you chat.”

Land’s gaze slid back to Thomas, or I assumed it did because his head turned that direction. “Nah, we’re fine out here.” He gestured to me with one hand extended out his window. “Come on, Eve. I ain’t got all day.”

I stood up, legs heavy, and started down the steps. Thomas’s hand shot out and caught at my forearm, bringing me up short. “You need me,” he said low, “I’m right inside.”

I nodded. It occurred to me for the first time that maybe I wasn’t the only one in this town with bad memories of Land, whose steps slowed every time he slid into view. I stood by Land’s passenger door until Thomas went back inside, had to take a quick step backward when Land shoved open the door and motioned for me to hop in with an impatient hand.

I settled into the passenger seat carefully, my body folded into itself. I hadn’t been inside Land’s car in years, and I’d sworn I never would be again. “You got any idea why I’m here?” Land asked.

“No.” Although I was pretty sure I did.

Land sighed. “I got a call from Hallie Marshall’s mama. Said you were harassing her girl outside of school today.”

I turned toward him. “I was not harassing her. I asked her a couple of questions, that’s all.”

Land mirrored my position, one beefy hand coming up to clutch the top of the steering wheel, sunlight glinting off the wedding ring he still wore, although his wife, Mabel, had died two years ago. Probably sick of looking at his smug face every day. Even across the car, I could smell stale coffee on his breath. “Since when is it your job to go around asking questions? You got a police badge I don’t know about? You need to let us do what we’re trained to do, Eve.”