Paula sat very still in the car. She held her phone in front of her so if anyone happened to glance over, they would think she was checking something on the screen rather than gazing at the woman and child. Spying on them, even if it was, arguably, a benign form of spying.

Brody, wearing a red puffer jacket over his school uniform, bounded down the driveway and threw his arms around his mother’s hips. Rochelle bent over to land a volley of staccato kisses all over his head. Brody laughed, shook his head as if he were ticklish, but then submitted his face for more kisses.

From across the street, Paula couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was clear Brody was chattering to his mother, telling her some tale of his school day that required melodramatic hand gestures. Rochelle listened, gasping with appropriate amazement at his story.

The grandmother stepped out onto the porch, offering to help bring in the groceries. Rochelle waved her off, smiling—Brody would help with the shopping.

Mother and son joked around about what goodies might be inside the bags. Then Rochelle did a little pantomime about one of the bags being too heavy to lift, so they would have to carry it together, one handle apiece. Brody nodded, very earnest about the task, and helped her hoist the bag up onto the porch. And meanwhile, Paula sat in her car like a crazy person, watching a woman and a child carry in groceries.

When they eventually went inside the house, front curtains were drawn and interior lights switched on, Paula drove away.

She felt anchored again, as she’d hoped she might. But it struck her that she didn’t only feel soothed, she was also revived, as if she had drawn power from the sight of Rochelle and Brody alive, safe, not afraid.

TWELVE

ON HIS THIRD AND FINAL DAY IN THE WITNESS BOX, DAMIEN Ross looked exhausted, too drained to continue. The pale skin around his eyes was raw and puffy from crying or sleeplessness, probably both.

Anita had the urge to run over and shake his hand—no, fuck it, she wanted to fold that young man in her arms, do whatever she could to transfer the energy he would need to hold strong. She wanted to hand him caffeinated beverages and muesli bars and herbal remedies, shower him with praise and reassurance and gratitude for the way he was standing up for Kendra.

When Irene Pileris stood up at the bar table to ask Damien Ross the first question of the day, she paused for a moment and smiled at him. She was silently letting him know that he was doing a good job, this was nearly over, and there was just one more part of Kendra’s story he was required to tell. Damien took a breath and Anita saw him soak in Pileris’s smile as the fuel he needed to keep going.