“Massage. Last appointment of the night.”

“Must be nice.” It was never good when Bettina had nothing else to do but lie around thinking for an hour. After last month’s massage, she’d roped Pia into a makeup consultation, and now they couldn’t get the woman to leave them alone. I needed to find a task for her.

“Do you have a sec?” Hesitation.

I pressed my phone closer to my ear. “Spill it. But no way I’m starting a nonprofit with you.”

When she didn’t laugh, I sank into a chair near the front window, where I had a view of the street. I’d see Bettina when she drove up and into her driveway.

“Alice and I...we were talking about those messages,” Bettina said. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

The cul-de-sac was empty this late at night. One of the streetlights was blinking on and off in rapid succession, then pausing, only to start again. The wind had kicked up. A branch on my dogwood tree was swaying like it was about to fall off.

“It’s one of the bitchy moms,” I said. “Got to be. Remember how horrid they were when I ran for school board?”

A pause. Bettina must have stopped at a light, because all was silent on her end. Then she said, “We think it could be Jackie.”

Her name was like a shot. I almost dropped the phone.

Bettina continued quickly, like she was afraid I might hang up. “When was the last time any of us heard from her?”

I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Were they all losing it? I didn’t have time for this bullshit. I had a party to pull off. We couldn’t afford to unravel like this, not now.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Utterly ridiculous. Why in the world would you think it was her?”

If not for the whoosh of the car, I’d have thought we got disconnected.

I hadn’t thought about Jackie in a long time. Tried not to think about her. We’d been such good friends back then. One for all, all for one. I’d have done anything for her. And then she’d gone and ruined everything, and I’d wanted nothing but for her to disappear.

“I tried to google her, and I couldn’t find her,” Bettina said.

“Good,” I said.

Karma was a bitch.

I stood, paced the room. Outside, a car pulled into the cul-de-sac, but it drove by Bettina’s house and then ours, headed toward the pipe stem. When it passed, its headlights illuminated the dogwood.

That swaying branch wasn’t a branch. There was something in the tree.

I put on my flats and stepped outside, into the front yard.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Bettina asked. “She’s not on Facebook or anything either. I can’t find any trace of her.”