“Take me to the hospital,” I should have said. Not even home. I was already beyond going home.

But all I said was, “Yes, okay, let’s talk to her.”

We drove to the mine. That was about the worst place for me at that moment, filled with men and machines and dust and tumult, a dizzying chaos of noise reverberating in my head. I was trying so hard not to let everyone see the tornado of sensations whipping around me. Even Darrell was oblivious. I had to lean on him to make it to the work trailer, and he was so caught up in his questions and his mysteries that he didn’t realize—why couldn’t I just say it?—I was having a baby.

We sat inside while the foreman went to collect Sandra. He didn’t look happy about pulling her off the job again. Darrell and I said nothing, and I could tell that his mind was distracted, because he never even looked at me. Anyone who looked at me would have seen the truth.

Sandra did.

A few minutes later, she came into the trailer in her dirty work clothes, saw my face, and immediately did a double take. “Jesus Christ, Rebecca, are you in labor?”

That was the first time Darrell saw me—really saw me—and realized that something was very wrong. But I shrugged off her comment with a forced smile. “I’m just a little uncomfortable.”

Sandra gaped at me as if to say, Honey, do you want your baby born on the floor? But when I didn’t say anything more, she sat down and wiped her brow. “I don’t know what you want, Darrell, but if Norm’s not here, I’m not answering questions.”

“Then how about you just listen?” he said.

She grabbed a cigarette from her pocket but didn’t light it. She waved it in the air and fiddled it with her fingers. “Whatever. Go ahead.”

“We confirmed what we suspected,” he informed her. “Brink met with Kip and Racer. Ajax was the one who introduced them.”

Sandra made a little spitting noise between her teeth. “Ajax, huh? Nice.”

“Now all four of them are dead.”

“Well, that’s a big loss,” she commented with heavy sarcasm, ignoring her intention to stay quiet.

Darrell passed her the photograph. “Someone left this picture on Ruby’s door. It shows Brink, Kip, and Racer together outside Norm’s trailer. Sometime not long after this picture was taken, Kip and Racer were murdered.”

Sandra studied the men in the picture. Her face bore no expression, no anger, no disgust, no sadness, no regret. Silently, she passed the photograph back to Darrell. “So what?”

“Did you take the picture? Did you leave it for Ruby to find?”

“No.”

“Did you kill Kip and Racer? And Brink? And Ajax?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Darrell ignored her denial.

“We received this tape, too,” he said.