When Maggie gave her a cheering pat, Linnie wrenched her arm away and snapped, “Fuck it. I’m going back to the car. It’s freezing out, and I’m tired. You guys can explore this shitty town on your own.” She stomped down the street.

Maggie stared after her in amazement. “What the hell?”

“Meh.” Caleb rubbed his dog’s side. “She’s just missing her…” He shook his head, as if he were reluctant to say aloud what Linnie was missing. His smile was sad. “Try not to take her bad mood personally.”

A couple of hours later, they found her asleep (or faking sleep) in the backseat. By then, Maggie half-wished she were doing the same. She felt sapped and discouraged.

But when they returned to the Cannons’ place, she had reason to hope. Interior lights warmed the long windows, and the light outside the garage was on, too. A sleek Lexus sat in the driveway. At least one person was home.

“I’ll wait here for you,” Caleb said quietly as Maggie got out of the car.

“Thanks.” She hurried up the walkway and rang the doorbell, then stood at the front door uncertainly, patting her hair and wincing at the damage the day’s wind had wreaked. Her cheeks burned from the cold. She blew her nose on a cheap napkin she’d saved from her lunch and shivered inside her coat. She probably looked like a vagrant.

The woman who answered the door clearly thought so as well. “May I help you?” She held the door open at an angle just past a crack. She was tall and stately, a human version of her house.

“Hi.” Maggie straightened and lifted her chin, striving to come across as assertive and respectable. “I’m a friend of Jane’s. From Carlton. I was wondering if she was in.”

“Oh.” The door widened, and the woman stepped back. After Maggie entered, the woman shut the door gently, as if to avoid waking someone. “I’m not sure if…” She wrung her hands. “My daughter hasn’t been feeling great.”

“I know. She told me.” And what did she tell you? There was a lull, during which she and Jane’s mother eyed each other. Did Mrs. Cannon know what had happened?

The woman’s gaze seemed to indicate a similar quandary. Finally, she walked toward the swirled end of a dark bannister. “Let me see if she’s up.”

“Oh, that would be great.” Maggie smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

“Who should I tell her is here?”

“Margaret Arioli.”

The older woman’s entire bearing changed. “Oh dear.” She stepped back from the staircase. Her expression was apologetic, but her hands, half-raised, said, Halt. “We’re working hard to put that Carlton business behind her.”

“She wrote to me, asking for help.”