Winnie herself, who no longer had the energy to hold her head up, sat slouched against the wall, her face dangling above her own crotch. When Terry Russel said her name, she didn’t bother looking up. She had pieced together the story and had spun a narrative that suited her. And she’d done her research.

“She was working at Illuminations for Mental Health at the time Josalyn sought care there,” Terry said. “I spoke with the head doctor at the facility, and he confirmed that your sister was Josalyn’s counselor. In fact, after your sister left her job—” she paused “—Josalyn contacted Illuminations several times, asking for contact information for Winifred Crouch. She even once told the receptionist that Winnie stole her baby.”

Winnie watched the back of her brother’s head, wondering if he was buying this. Even six months ago, she’d have known the answer to that. She thought she knew everything about her brother, but now, she realized that she knew only what she wanted to know, what it suited her to know.

Terry Russel was asking Dakota to look at the police report in her handbag. He did, the gun still dangling from his hand, tossing aside Terry’s wallet, which he briefly opened to check her license.

“She’s who she says she is,” he said, turning to Winnie. His eyebrows were raised in mock surprise. Winnie could do nothing but blink. She was fiercely thirsty. She kept expecting Nigel to walk through the door; he’d help her get out of this. But her own brother had murdered him. Murdered. The word was foreign to Winnie. She’d never once worried that someone she loved would be murdered, never had to.

She looked at Terry, who was smiling coldly at her, a challenge. Josalyn had said that her stepfather molested her and that her mother had chosen not to see it. Looking at Terry Russel, Winnie wondered if it was true. And how had she come to find Winnie? Juno Holland, who was that? Another of her husband’s whores, she thought. As if Dulce Tucker hadn’t been enough. And it was mostly anger that filled Winnie after that: Nigel had told someone, and that someone had sent this woman to her doorstep.

“Your grandson is dead!” she screamed through her gag. But she could tell they hadn’t understood her words.

Terry licked her lips again, keeping her eyes trained on Dakota like she was trying to hypnotize him.

“I’ll take him and go. I won’t tell anyone what happened. I only want my grandson. Please.”

Dakota took a few seconds to process what she’d said before he started to laugh. The shocked look on her face indicated that Terry had thought her negotiations were going well.

“You don’t want to hurt him, he’s just a boy.”