An unidentified female had been found in a landfill next to an incinerator in Tacoma, Washington, on February 10, 2008. She was between sixteen and twenty-five years old, 5′6″ and 114 pounds, with faded dyed hair. She wore black bikini panties and a single ring, worn on her right hand. She had good muscle tone and, at one point in her life, had taken good care of her teeth. The victim had likely died on February 8.

Josalyn Rose Russel had been reported missing from her home in Lima, Ohio, in 2005, when she’d run away from her family home after an argument; that’s what Juno gleaned online. According to an acquaintance, Josalyn had hitched a ride to California, after which she was not seen or heard from again.

Juno sat back, her mind tussling with this new information. So Josalyn had fled Ohio and, a year later, in 2006, ended up in Washington, a teen runaway under the care of Winnie Crouch. In 2007 she’d had a baby, and in 2008 she had been found dead. Winnie, she was sure, had had maternal feelings toward the girl. But why had Josalyn run away in the first place? Juno thought of the cold aloofness she’d heard in Terry Russel’s voice. The denial mothers, that’s what she’d called them in her therapist years; women who dragged their sullen, druggie kids into the office for her to fix. They didn’t want anything to do with the actual therapy; there was a strong aversion to the truth.

“The denial is strong with that one,” she’d say to her secretary, Naveen, who would take the outstretched file with a sad, knowing smile. But even if Terry had been a denial mother, she had every right to know that she had a grandson. And he has every right to know about her, Juno thought decidedly.

Josalyn had described Winnie to Terry as a friend. That meant the girl had trusted Winnie. Social workers often felt like friends to their patients, and it was easy for lines to become blurred. Fifteen years ago, Winnie would have been fresh out of grad school, young and energetic. The pictures were in every room and on every wall, Winnie posing with various landmarks and accomplishments: high school graduation, college graduation, engagement, wedding, grad school graduation…and then, Juno imagined, it was time for a baby. Winnie liked things to be orderly, and Juno supposed that at some point, she’d decided it was time and approached Nigel about it. But—plot twist—she couldn’t get pregnant. Entitled, spoiled Winnie—it must have irked the hell out of her when she found out Josalyn the teenage homeless girl was pregnant and didn’t even want to be when Winnie herself couldn’t conceive. Juno felt a surge of disgust for Winnie—for Nigel, too, who’d known and who’d helped Winnie get what she wanted out of Josalyn.