My hands shook as I gave the attendant my credit card. Those abandoned cars, that couple murdered in Brazos Bend State Park; I hadn’t connected it before. What were the odds there’d be two sets of serial killers working the greater Houston area? Brady and Lena snatched people standing on the side of the road—homeless or lost or working. Other times they might have found people stranded. And sometimes Lena killed people right where they lived. No place was safe.

And it didn’t matter if you were a stranger or a neighbor or even, possibly, a friend.

When I walked through the door of Molly’s apartment, I realized I’d completely forgotten my plan to pick up lunch, but it wouldn’t have been necessary anyway. The apartment smelled invitingly of toast. The warmth, the smell of food, and the roar of a football game on the television took me back to any number of Sunday afternoons growing up.

Mom was on the futon sofa with Grace on her knees, while in the kitchenette, Dad added another slice to a towering stack of toast.

“Is anyone joining us?” I asked, locking the front door behind me and setting down my purse.

He looked at me blankly, and I added, “That’s a lot of toast, Dad.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “I’m making some omelets too, but they’re fast. Didn’t want to start until you got back.”

“Your hair is cute.” Mom studied me. “Kind of choppy, like that actress from that movie.” She looked at Dad. “You know, the one with the elevator.”

He turned back to the stove. “I can’t remember any of their names.”

I went over to Mom, and the sight of Grace softened any remaining frustration and paranoia. I was safe here, part of something amazing, something Aimee could never tarnish. “How was Grace?”

“Perfect angel. She woke up about an hour ago, had a new diaper, then a bottle, then another new diaper, and we’ve been talking ever since. I told her all about the garden club—”

“What did she think about that?”

“She agreed with me that the selection committee has gotten really political, but there’s no call for the drama about mixing wildflowers and cultivars in competition.”

“You’ve got a smart girl there,” my dad called out. “She knows when to agree. And she’s pulling for the Giants over the Cowboys.”

“They’re playing at the MetLife Stadium,” Mom said. “We went a few weeks ago, but that place is just too big for me.”

Grace’s gaze had been fixed on my face since I’d come in, and the longer I stood and talked without picking her up, the more vigorously her arms and legs moved. She reached for me, grunting, and despite my mother’s clinging arms, I gathered her up and cuddled her close.