She was down almost a quarter of a tank already by the full swell of daybreak. It seemed wrong that everything was this bright and dewy. As if everything were better than fine.

She’d crossed the town line at every compass point in the night, and the longing to just keep going crested to nearly unbearable every time she did.

She was so tired that her thoughts slipped into almost dreamlike snippets of her old life—her forehead against her cat’s gray fur; the clink of champagne flutes after a big sale; shampoo in her short hair; her sister’s hands shuffling a deck of cards on poker night; a New Year’s party at the gallery; her corner of the electronic world pinging with messages from people she knew, from people who knew her . . .

A shriek of car horns snapped her focus onto the road. She’d drifted far out of her lane into the next turn. She was jangling awake now, trembling. She took the exit and pulled into the parking lot of a church. She called Samantha.

The phone rang and rang. Emma kneaded her bottom lip between her teeth, her throat working to hold down the cry that wanted out.

The line clicked. “M?”

She lost the fight with her voice and all she could do was cry.

“M? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Her hitching would barely let the words past. “No. Not hurt. I’m okay.”

Samantha blew out a relieved breath into the phone. “Okay. Okay. What’s going on?”

Marcelline sobbed into her hand to keep from howling over the connection.

Samantha’s voice was gentle. “What happened?”

“It’s not going to work.” She saw Roy’s face in her mind and stifled another wail. I shouldn’t be here. “I can’t do anything. And Roy’s dead because of me. It’s over.”

“Nothing’s over. This didn’t work out. Come on back. We’ll find another way.”

Marcelline’s phone doubled-beeped. An incoming text. She pulled the phone away to look. It was from Carly.

Are you there?

Marcelline typed as Samantha kept talking, her voice distant, calling to her. “Emma?”

Marcelline texted back to Carly, Yes. Everything okay?

I don’t know. Another message came up immediately. No I think maybe not.

“Samantha, I have to go.”

“No!”

“I’ll call you back. I promise.”

“Em, please, don’t hang—”

“I’ll call you back!”

She pressed the call dead and texted Carly, Call me?

Nothing. Marcelline wanted to move, to pace, to crawl out of her skin. As she started to text again, the phone rang.

“What’s wrong?”