The other woman’s body was warm and welcoming. The strong arms held her tight. Despite herself, Helene began to cry.

Aunt Willa held her tighter. “It’s all right, Helene. Everything’s all right.” After a long moment, she relaxed the hug but kept an arm around Helene, looking at Roy. “Is there some kind of problem, Officer?”

Helene realized that Roy had pulled his coat back and put his hands on his hips, exposing a badge on his belt. He must have taken it from one of the bodies back in South Dakota.

Roy chuckled. “Not at all. I’m her husband, Roy.”

Aunt Willa looked back at Helene. “Your husband.” Her face was carefully neutral, but her eyes were the same piercing blue.

I should have brushed my hair, Helene thought. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked so closely at the dress and the bare feet. She wondered if her neck was bruised.

“Show her the ring, honey.”

Helene raised her right hand. Aunt Willa took it in hers. “Oh, my. That’s quite a ring. I suppose congratulations are in order.” She held the door open wide. “Why don’t you come inside and I’ll put on some coffee.”

Helene looked at Roy. Please, she said silently, moving her lips.

Roy ignored her and turned up the warmth on Aunt Willa. “That’s so kind of you, ma’am.” He took the door and gestured to the opening. “Ladies first.”

56

She could feel Roy behind her as she followed her aunt through the small, neat house. Pastel-colored walls and delicate furniture and fresh flowers on the small round table in the kitchen, just like in Martha Stewart or Real Simple, Helene thought. Outside the big glass doors, brown garden beds filled the backyard, the dormant plants just waiting for the warmth of real spring. A blue Volvo wagon sat inside the open garage.

After turning down the volume on a little countertop TV, her aunt filled the coffeemaker with brisk, efficient movements, although her eyes kept returning to Helene and Roy, as if trying to make sense of them. Roy eight or nine years older, the stone in the ring too large to be real. The men had changed into clean jeans and shirts somewhere along the way, but Helene still wore the faded print dress, tight as a drum across her enormous belly.

“Helene, you look radiant. How far along are you?”

Her aunt was too polite to say it, and had too much self-control to show it on her face, but the unasked question was obvious. What on earth are you doing pregnant at nineteen, after everything your mother taught you? And by this man?

Roy heard it, too. He gave Helene a warning glance and put his arm around her. She managed not to flinch. She wanted, more than anything, to fool her aunt into thinking everything was okay. She knew what Roy was capable of.