Sean Daniels had been at the party in Uptown, but Lila hadn’t remembered that until she went to the Fifth Precinct with Niki. After hearing his name she could now see him sitting on the back porch, alone, arms folded as he watched her. The image was fleeting, but it was real, and it had been resurrected from dust. Could there be a way to let more of that light in?

Lila had yet to face so much about that terrible year. Like a woman standing blindfolded on a cliff, she once believed that if she never took a step, there could be no fall. Others had looked for her attackers and failed, so Lila told herself that there was nothing more to be done.

But that wasn’t true, and now she knew it. The scars those men inflicted reached deep into her soul, and if an answer were to be found, it would have to come from her. She would have no peace as long as those men walked free. She needed to shake loose some new memories, helpful memories, and the place to start would be the home she lived in on the night she tried to kill herself.

* * *

Charlotte Nash lived a mere twenty minutes away from Lila, but Lila hadn’t been to see her mother since Christmas. She would phone on her birthday and Mother’s Day, but those conversations held no more depth than a shadow, both mother and daughter making a point not to veer off happy topics.

Charlotte Nash had been tireless in her fortifications against the winds of change. She lived in the same house where Lila grew up, went to the same church she had when Lila was a child, and played canasta on Saturday evenings with the same group of friends. The house had the feel of a time capsule, with Lila’s high school speech medals still hanging next to a family picture taken just before her father left for the Philippines—where he took up with a woman whose name remains unspoken in Charlotte’s house.

“You should have called,” Charlotte said when she answered the door. “I’d have made cookies or something.”

It was by design that Lila hadn’t called. It was the best way to keep the visit short.

Charlotte backed into the house with Lila in tow. “You should’ve brought Joe. I haven’t seen him since Christmas. I wish you’d bring him around more often. I have some lemon bars left over from canasta. You want a lemon bar?”

“No, Mom.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Charlotte sat on a couch and pointed to the love seat with her eyes as if to direct Lila to sit, but Lila stayed on her feet, causing Charlotte’s cheek to twitch ever so slightly.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” Lila said, knowing that her mother would appreciate the lie. “Thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

“You look healthy.”

That was Charlotte’s preferred compliment for Lila. It came from the heart but had its roots in a time when Lila didn’t look healthy—a time when the overdose and the cutting had turned Charlotte’s daughter into a tattered scarecrow of a girl.