“You!” he called, as the last of her disappeared around the corner. “I told Manda I wasn’t crazy, I knew there was a ghost!”

But he didn’t come after her as she had thought he would. Juno was braced to hear his boots on the stairs, but the only sound in her ears was her own rasping breath. He probably thinks he can deal with me later, Juno thought as she ran for Sam’s room, or maybe he thinks I really am a ghost. She threw open the door to find it empty. She stepped inside, half expecting to find him hiding, but he wasn’t in the room. Thank God, thank all the gods. It was then that she saw the open window. Sam had gotten out. He would get the police. Her relief was immense, but now she could hear Dakota coming up the stairs. The heavy donk, donk of his work boots sounded on the floor. Juno knew where to hide; she always knew. She slipped quickly from Sam’s room before Dakota rounded the bend in the staircase.

She heard him walking through the rooms quickly. She supposed he didn’t have much time, considering the two women downstairs; it seemed like he was hardly looking. Juno was in the cabinet under the sink, the one where Winnie kept the fresh towels. She heard him walk into the bathroom, his shoes squeaking on the marble floor. She was shaking so hard her teeth were knocking together and she swore Dakota would hear, but a second later he left, and she heard him going down the stairs.

So he had seen her once before. She hadn’t wanted to admit she’d been that careless, but he had. He’d been drunk, and Juno hadn’t exactly known what he’d seen when she’d tiptoed from the bathroom as he was coming out of the kitchen. It was dark and she’d darted away just as he’d turned around, sensing something was behind him. She’d slipped back into the closet in a panic, fearing she wouldn’t make it into the crawl space, but Dakota hadn’t pursued her to her little hidey-hole.

Now, she pushed open the cabinet door, unfolding like a stiff metal toy. She stood on the bathroom mat, her eyes darting around like she was going to find a solution somewhere in this room. It was her fault that Terry Russel had come to the house; she’d put it in the woman’s head that Josalyn’s son was living with his kidnappers, and then she’d given the woman the Crouches’ address. If Terry died here, it would be Juno’s fault.

“Oh, God...” Juno mumbled softly. She stood on the bathroom rug and covered her ears with her hands, squeezing her eyes closed and swaying back and forth. She could feel a panic attack coming on. It was regression if she’d ever seen it. In prison, she’d resorted to the same method to control anxiety attacks, finding a corner and swaying like she was having a religious experience. They’d called her Hail Mary, and she hadn’t cared because when she was crazy Hail Mary she couldn’t hear or see any of them. But Juno didn’t have women heckling her this time, just herself. She’d done it again, the thing that had rent her family right down the middle all those years ago—getting too involved in people’s lives, taking it a step too far, crossing a line. And for what? Kregger had said she’d chosen psychology because she needed to be overly involved in people’s lives. And she had, hadn’t she? She’d been that way since she was a little girl at her mother’s salon, eavesdropping on breakups and makeups, thinking about their stories as she lay in bed at night. Darla Hess, who was pregnant with her fifth and didn’t want to be; Sarah O’Neil, who’d left her husband for the high school football coach, and then... Pattie and Pastor Paul.

But no. This time, it wasn’t her fault. Winnie had stolen someone’s baby and raised him as her own. Juno had merely stumbled upon the information and acted like any normal person would, doing the right thing. The same went for Terry, who had made the choice to come to the Crouch house rather than going to the authorities. There it was.

She opened her eyes, dropping her hands to her sides. She needed to get out of the house, get away from these poisonous people. She was no longer in prison, and she didn’t have to stay here. She made it three steps when she thought of the open window in Sam’s room. Casting a cautious glance toward the stairs, Juno slipped into Sam’s room again. Her eyes scanned his desk for some sign of what had been happening in his head before he escaped. His backpack was gone. She opened his dresser drawer; she knew he kept his money rolled and secured with a rubber band. Juno had mused over it the first time she’d seen it, the way he stashed his cash.

What if he’d overheard what Terry Russel had said to Winnie? Could he have left the house before Dakota arrived? Her breath vacuumed in as she considered the possibility that Sam had run away instead of running for help. His roll of money was gone from its spot. That’s when her heart really started hammering. Gone. She didn’t care what happened to Winnie, and she didn’t much care what happened to Terry Russel, either. Juno had chosen her side long ago. Sam was who mattered. Her feet started moving, shuffling at first and then running.

      31

   WINNIE

Once Winnie’s ankles were tied, Dakota firmly seated her on the floor and turned toward Terry. She stared at the back of his head, wondering where her brother had gone, and if someone could just...change overnight. But it hadn’t been overnight, though, had it? Dakota knelt in front of Terry, blocking Winnie’s view of her terrified face for a moment. They’d known that Dakota had problems, and Manda had been warning them for years about how serious they’d become, but the family hadn’t listened hard enough, had figured that Dakota was Manda’s problem now. When Dakota stood up, the floral scarf was slung over his palm and Terry was licking her lips, staring up at him like a cornered animal.

“Who is your grandson?” he asked her. His voice was rough, husky, like he’d just woken up from a nap. Winnie envisioned the first night he’d come to stay with them, how she’d found him sobbing like a baby on the couch. There was no trace of that man now.

She stopped struggling to listen.

Terry’s eyes didn’t waver when she said “Samuel.”

Winnie could feel the sweat gathering between her breasts and on her forehead. Dakota gave a loud smack of his lips, before casting a glance over his shoulder at her. Winnie didn’t like what she saw in his eyes—or maybe it was what she didn’t see that frightened her, the absence of her brother.

“Samuel...?” he repeated. He said it with a slight sneer, like Terry might be the craziest person in the room.

“She stole another woman’s baby and passed him off as her own,” Terry said. “Go ahead, ask her.”

Winnie screamed against her gag, her rage channeling a demon-like cry. They both turned to look at her. Her brother’s face was impassive as he looked at her.

“That true, Win...? You steal someone’s kid...?”

Winnie yelled around her gag until her throat was burning, but Dakota seemed to be done looking at her for now; he was focused again on Terry with rapt attention.