I follow her. “You really don’t know anything about the bodies buried down there?”

“Absolutely not.”

“There’s just a pile of random bodies in a church basement.”

“Jesus, I don’t know. This is the same reporter who claimed there was a message on the wall. Where’s that?”

She has a point.

Maybe Josh has it wrong. Or maybe someone is feeding him lies to keep him from the truth.

Fictional police do that all the time. And Claire might be just as smart as they are.

Sixty

Now that Millicent has discovered that Rory has a girlfriend and has been sneaking out to see her, she wants to meet with Faith’s parents to discuss the situation. The Hammonds are clients of hers, and they readily agree that we should all meet for dinner. Neither Rory nor Faith is invited.

We are on the way to the restaurant, a traditional place with white tablecloths and a menu of comfort foods. Their choice, not Millicent’s.

“They’re reasonable people,” Millicent says.

“I’m sure they are,” I say.

When we arrive, the Hammonds are already waiting at the table. Hank Hammond is small and blond, like his daughter. Corinne Hammond is not small and not a natural blonde. Both wear classic clothes and polite smiles. We get straight to the food. No one orders wine.

Hank’s voice is twice as big as his body.

“Faith is a good girl. She never snuck out until she met your son,” he says.

I can almost the see the ball swing over to our court. Millicent smiles, polite and syrupy. “I could say the same about your daughter, but blame isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“I’m not talking about blame. I’m talking about keeping them away from each other.”

“You want to ban Rory and Faith from seeing each other?”

“Faith is already banned from seeing your son anywhere but at school,” Hank says. “I suppose that’s impossible to avoid.”

“You could homeschool her,” Millicent says. “That way they would never see each other.”

I put my hand on Millicent’s arm. She shakes it off.

“Perhaps your son is the one who needs homeschooling,” Hank says.

Corinne nods.

“You really think that forbidding them to see each other will make them … stop seeing each other?” Millicent says.

“Our daughter will do as she’s told,” Hank says.

I can feel Millicent biting her tongue, because I’m doing the same thing.

Corinne breaks the tension. Her voice is stronger than expected. “It’s for the best,” she says.

Millicent shifts her eyes to Corinne and pauses before saying, “I don’t make it a habit of just banning my kids from doing something.”

Lie.

“I guess that’s where we differ,” Hank says.

“Perhaps we should get back to the subject at hand,” I say. “I don’t think we need to get into our parenting philosophies.”

“Fine,” Hank says. “You keep your son away from my daughter, and that’s the end of it.”

The check arrives, and Millicent grabs it before Hank can. She hands it to me and says, “We’ve got it.”

The dinner ends with a terse goodbye.

Millicent is silent on the way home.

Rory is waiting at the door when we walk into the house. He has a sprained wrist, cannot play golf, and he is grounded. Faith is the only thing he has, or thought he had. I am not looking forward to telling him he has lost her, too.

Except we don’t. Millicent walks over to Rory and places her hand on his cheek. “All good,” she says.

“All good? Really?”

“Just don’t ever sneak out again.”

“I promise.”

Rory scampers off with his phone to call Faith, who will get a different message from her parents.

Millicent winks at me.

I wonder if this is how some girls learn to be so sneaky. From someone else’s mother.

* * *

• • •

The next day, we get a call from the school. Jenna, not Rory. And this time, it is not about a weapon or her stomach. Now, it’s her grades.

She has always been an honor student, but her grades have fallen over the past month. Today, she neglected to turn in a paper that was due. Jenna didn’t even give her teacher an excuse.

Neither Millicent nor I had a clue. Jenna has been such a good student I don’t even check the weekly reports posted online. After a flurry of texts and calls, we decide to talk to her after dinner.

Millicent begins by telling her about the phone call from school and then says, “Tell us what’s going on.”

Jenna has no real answer, other than some hems and haws and a shake of her head.

“I don’t understand,” Millicent says. “You’ve always been an excellent student.”

“What’s the point?” Jenna says. She stands up from the bed and walks across the room. “If someone can just lock me up in a basement and torture me, what’s the point?”

“No one will do that to you,” I say.

“Bet those dead women believed that.”

Another punch to the gut. This one feels like an ice pick.

Millicent takes a deep breath.

Ever since meeting Claire, Jenna seemed to be better. She talked about being a detective all the time. But it all stopped when we found out about the church.

We go around in circles with her, trying to use logic to take away her fear. It does not really work. All we get is a promise that she will not flunk any of her classes.

As we walk out of Jenna’s room, I see a notebook lying open on her bed. She has been researching how many women are abducted and murdered each year.

Millicent gets on the phone, trying to find another therapist.

This is on the third day without new information about the church. Claire holds a press conference every evening to repeat what we already know.

* * *

• • •

Day four begins with a barking dog. We have several in the neighborhood, so there’s no telling which one wakes me up at five in the morning, but it will not stop barking.

I sit up in bed, wondering why it never hit me before.

A dog.

One big enough to make Jenna feel safe, and protective enough to bark when someone is outside. Like Rory, when he tries to sneak in and out.

I could kick myself for not thinking of it sooner. A dog would solve so many of our problems.

For once, I am up before Millicent. When she comes downstairs in her running clothes, I am drinking coffee and researching dogs on the Internet. She freezes when she sees me.

“Do I want to know why you’re—”

“Look,” I say, pointing at the screen. “He’s at the shelter, a rottweiler-boxer mix.”

Millicent takes the coffee out of my hand and helps herself to a sip. “You want a dog.”

“For the kids. To protect Jenna, and to keep Rory from sneaking out.”

She looks at me and nods. “That’s kind of brilliant.”

“I have my moments.”

“You’ll take care of this dog?”