I closed my eyes and felt outward with my other senses, not moving until I began to hear things that hadn’t been there a moment before—the tremor of a leaf blown into a spiderweb, water moving underground in a trickle that pushed and sighed. There was more, too. Beyond all of this, beyond what I could actually hear, if I was going to parse it rationally, the sound of an engine, machinery. Civilization. “I think I know the way.”

He let me lead from there, out of the grove and through the red alder, following signs that showed me where to go subtly, almost invisibly. Some of the spaces between the trees looked different from others, jogging my memory, alerting me to landmarks in the white slashes of mushrooms, in lichen, and in moss. There was the brackish smell of the meadow, the wet-feeling air as we neared the fern forest, the mountain laurel blossoms in a translucent pink carpet. A few times I got off track, but Hap didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to help me at all this time, and it wasn’t out of stubbornness either, but out of love. He wanted to show me that I could do it. That I was competent and resourceful. That I could trust myself as much as he had learned to trust me.

When we finally reached the car, I watched Hap load his daypack back inside. The steady movements of his hands, and his quiet concentration. Here was the tallest, straightest tree I would ever know. When he turned back around, I said, “Thank you.”

(fifty-two)

The next day the examiner calls with the autopsy report. Manner of death: homicidal force, strangulation. A fractured hyoid bone and soft tissue damage in the neck confirm it. The ligature marks suggest protracted binding.

“When the Curtises hear, they’re going to lose their minds,” Will says once he’s filled me in. “Of course they’re going to wonder if Cameron is next.”

We’re in his office, both jangling from the ongoing stress and too much caffeine. The last twenty-four hours have been so exhausting and upsetting, I can barely remember the kiss in his apartment. It’s as if it never happened, and that’s a relief. We have enough to deal with.

“Strangulation is almost always a power thing,” I say to Will. “So much force is required to finish someone that way. You can see their eyes and smell their breath, knowing that you can stop the train at any moment and spare them. Or not.”

“Jesus,” he says heavily. “I never thought this could happen on my watch. It nearly broke my dad. I don’t think he was ever the same kind of sheriff again. Maybe I’m not strong enough, or good enough. I mean shit, Anna.”