Terry Russel was remarkably quiet for a woman who’d stumbled right into a family tragedy and had seen a man murdered in front of her. Or had Dakota shot her, too? Juno had heard two shots and a scream. She could hear harsh breathing from the other side of the closet door, but she couldn’t tell whose it was.

Juno had crept up to the door when she’d heard Terry’s voice. She’d been waiting for Terry Russel to show up, counting on it. Nigel stumbling into the house minutes after with Dakota on his heels had been a complete shock to Juno. She’d expected Nigel to discover the two women at odds when he came back from his run, then shit would have really hit the fan. But now Nigel was dead—presumably—and that was not something Juno had ever wanted. She reached for the trapdoor. She’d crawl back down there and hide until this was over. The neighbors must have seen something—heard something—cops would be swarming the place before too long. But before she could open the trapdoor and crawl through, she heard voices. Terry Russel—she was alive!—was pleading. She was talking very quickly, as if Dakota might turn the gun on her next. Juno buried her face in the carpet, carpet that still smelled faintly of urine from the last time.

“My name is Terry Russel, I am here for my grandson, I have money. You can take all of my cards—here—”

Terry must have offered her handbag to Dakota because she followed up with a “—please take it. There’s five hundred dollars in cash in the side pocket, and all my car—What are you doing? No!”

They struggled. Juno could hear banging on the outside of the closet door—an elbow or maybe a knee. There was a crash, and the song of broken glass as it shattered on the floor. She crept farther back, her heart thumping in her throat, and closed her eyes. Winnie was repeating something to Dakota over and over again: “What are you doing, what are you doing! Dakota…!” Juno held a hand over her own mouth to suffocate any sound that might betray her. What is he doing? He’s gone mad, she thought. Afraid to make any noise that would alert them of her presence, Juno crawled over the trapdoor, pushing herself against the back wall as far as she could, the hems sweeping her face. She had to disappear from sight in case the door somehow opened. That was survival, disappearing when you needed to.