She stood her ground, folded her arms, and glared at me.

I returned the phone to my ear. "Perry. You read detective novels all the time, right? I need to run a scenario by you."

"Okay."

"Say someone's out in their car all day. Going here, going there. Sees no one following them. But then something happens that proves somebody was following. How could they do that without being spotted?"

"If the person's good at tailing, he should be able to keep out of sight easily enough."

"But..."

Frustration bounced around within me. My question sounded so naive. But it wouldn't have been that easy for someone to keep out of sight when I was parked on Melissa's street. I'd constantly checked for cars and hadn't seen anyone lurking around. And when I was in the church parking lot Hooded Man had phoned me, demanding to know if I was looking for Melissa. If he'd been following me, wouldn't he have known where I was?

"Of course he could also have put a GPS on the person's car," Perry added. "Then he could track without being close by."

I stilled. A GPS system. Not the kind of equipment a law-abiding skip tracer would use. But that intruder last night, in my garage. Drops of rain leading to my car...

The missing puzzle piece my tired brain couldn't find earlier.

How stupid of me. I should have guessed this. I should have known.

My body stiffened. Wait a minute. If a GPS was on my car, whoever Baxter had hired would know where we were right now. They could be at the motel any minute.

"Where would he put it, Perry?"

"Different places. Inside, maybe, like in the glove compartment. Or underneath the car, using a magnetized case. Why-"

"How big is it?"

"Pretty small."

If it was underneath the car I'd never find it in the dark. I had no flashlight. And no way would I even go out to the parking lot.

Melissa came around the foot of the bed to watch my face.

"We have to get out of here." I blurted the words into the phone, my eyes locked with Melissa's.

Her eyes rounded. "What?"

"He thinks they put a GPS tracking system on my car."

She shoved both hands into her hair, her face whitening. "Where do we go with no car?" Melissa's voice pinched like a scared child's. "And how do we leave the room if they're out there?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you'd better think of something!"

My eyes squeezed shut. How had this happened? I was a skip tracer; now I was on the run.

"Joanne!" Perry's voice drilled into my ear. I punched on the speakerphone so Melissa could hear. "Who is with you? Tell me what's happening."

Briefly I did. Melissa paced at the end of the beds, palms together and pressed against her mouth. When I told Perry about the break-in at my house, she came to a stop and glared at me. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"You need to call the police," Perry said.

"I-"

"No!" Melissa shook her head furiously. "She calls the police, and I'm out of here right now. The first thing they'll do is take us down to the station and try to force me to tell what I know. And I'll never do it. I'd be dead before they even tried to do a thing to Baxter."

I knew she meant it. Melissa could run again at any time. How would I ever convince her to change her mind? "You hear her?" I spoke into the phone.

"I heard. No police." He paused. "I'll come get you."

"But your store-"

"I'll close early."

Melissa thrust herself toward me. "He's not coming with cops!"

"No, he's-"

"Melissa!" Frustration coated Perry's voice. I held the speakerphone toward her.

"You're not bringing cops." Fire blazed in her eyes.

"I hear you, already."

"I swear if you show up with them, I'll deny I ever said anything about Baxter."

"Melissa, chill out. I'm coming by myself."

Her eyes narrowed.

"And you're welcome."

She puffed out a martyr's sigh.

"Nice companion you've got there, Joanne," Perry said.

Melissa rolled her eyes and turned away.

"So tell me where you are."

I told him.

"Okay, I'll leave right now. Stay in your room."

I calculated how long it would take Perry to make the drive.

"Thanks, Perry. Thank you so much."

"Just one more day in my exciting life." He hung up.

I threw the cell phone back into my purse and faced Melissa. "He's trying to help, you know. He doesn't have to do this."

Her expression flattened. She licked her lips. "I know. It's just...We almost got killed. And it's all because of Baxter. I don't want anything to do with his problems. For six years I've tried to forget what happened, but it never goes away. I just want to live my life."

A new wave of tiredness. .h.i.t. I just wanted to live my life too. Imagine what it must be like for someone as young as Melissa to carry such a burden.

"You will, Melissa. You will."

She brushed aside my plat.i.tudes and headed for her purse. Pulled out her cell phone. "I have to call a friend. I was supposed to meet her tomorrow for breakfast." Melissa's hardened tone had returned-a reminder to me that I'd thoroughly messed up her life. "I'll think of some excuse." She walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I heard the dull whir of the fan come on.

I sank upon my bed and scooted up to lean against the headboard. Checked the clock. Five after eight. We had over an hour to wait for Perry.

THIRTY-EIGHT.

JULY 2004.

When to dive off a sinking ship? And where to go, except back to the shark-infested waters of Social Services? Did Melissa really think another foster home would be better than living with the Jacksons?

Maybe the ship wouldn't totally sink after all, she told herself in the volatile days following July Fourth. Maybe only one end would, while her end tipped higher and safer than ever.

Besides, where would Melissa be without Baxter Jackson? Sure, the man had his faults. But he was her ticket to a career, a better, solid life. A magnificent life. And there was more. He'd gotten under her skin, piercing like a long, fine sliver. There was no pulling him out, not now. They worked together well; they understood each other. Melissa recognized the need for power and control in him and knew he saw the same in her. She had one thing Linda lacked-backbone. Baxter admired Melissa for that. She was sure of it. Instead of trying to dominate her, he now seemed to revel in displaying his domination of Linda in her presence.

The more their bond grew, the harsher Baxter treated his wife.

Melissa did nothing to stop him. How could she? When he lashed out at Linda, Melissa somehow managed to fade from the scene. But she walked a balance beam. It was not in her best interest to lose Linda's trust, even as Melissa built her loyalty to Baxter. When she and Linda were alone, Melissa oozed sympathy for the woman. As a result Linda began to lean on Melissa as the one person she could talk to, while she kept up appearances with everyone else.

Clever Baxter made his wife's charade easy. Melissa soon saw his strategy: never punch where someone would see a bruise. It was always in the head, or Linda's side or back. If he slapped her face it was a controlled hit, leaving red fingerprints that didn't last long.

July roiled on.

The temperature was hot-high nineties. Sunny day after sunny day, beating down on Vonita. Melissa thrived in it. The days energized her, the sizzling outside matching her sizzling inside. She lay out in a bikini in the backyard on weekends, her skin turning a deep brown. Feeling Baxter's eyes on her body.

Linda stayed out of the heat.

She didn't see her friends much anymore, as far as Melissa knew. Linda had even drawn away from Joanne Weeks. Instead she read a lot. Found projects to do in the house. She remodeled the guestroom and bought expensive new drapes and a Persian rug for the dining area. She potted plants and set them around the kitchen and den, throwing out the old ones. Linda took Melissa shopping for clothes, both of them buying lavishly. Spending was the one way Linda could get back at her husband.

Not that Melissa could complain about that. By now she had a designer wardrobe to die for. Shoes and handbags to match. Her skin looked perfect, thanks to the expensive moisturizers and toners. Her makeup was all MAC, with just about every eye shadow color the company made. Linda had even bought her professional lessons on how to apply makeup. Melissa had never looked better in her life.

Baxter didn't miss that fact either. He didn't say it but Melissa knew.

"You know why he'll never complain about my spending?" Linda told Melissa as they drove home from the mall one Sat.u.r.day. Melissa was behind the wheel. She loved driving the BMW. "His own ego. How could Baxter Jackson ever admit he didn't make enough to keep his family happy?"

Melissa nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She focused on the road, picturing Baxter, how he looked at her. The man was being eaten alive inside. What a dupe Linda was. Baxter paid the bills out of sheer guilt.

At the real estate office Melissa's job remained busy. She arranged open houses, answered phone calls, learned all she could. But Baxter's sales were way down for the month, even as the other realtors did well in the booming housing market. No reason the streak of bad luck should last. Baxter kept telling her this was the way business went. You had your good months and your bad months. He'd been through the cycle plenty of times. Sales would start going up; he was convinced of that.

Better start going up fast, Melissa thought. Bills rising and income falling. Not a good combination.

Besides, Melissa knew better than to think rising sales would calm Baxter down.

And so the three of them played their game. Baxter walked his unsteady line between wife and foster daughter. Melissa trod her own between husband and wife. And Linda pretended to the outside world more than ever.

Melissa tried hard to keep her mind focused-and succeeded most of the time. But in her moments of doubt she told herself this house of cards couldn't last.

One day it was bound to come tumbling down.

THIRTY-NINE.

FEBRUARY 2010.

By 8:40 Melissa and I had been waiting for Perry for over half an hour. We'd said little, ears attuned to any sound in the hallway. Melissa had resumed pacing. Her nervous movements were about to drive me crazy. I slumped on my bed, nerves humming.

Melissa turned to me abruptly. "I thought you called yourself a Christian."

I blinked. "I am a Christian."

"Then why do you lie?"

"I don't."

"You lied to me."

"Well, I...Sometimes in my work I have to."

"Uh-huh." She shifted her weight, hands on her hips. "Is that what the Bible says-don't lie except when you 'have to'?"

I surveyed her, my tongue stuck out against my top lip. "I had to find you, Melissa."

"Don't rationalize. I hate that. People rationalized to me my entire life. My mother had a reason to drink. She beat me for good reason-I was in her way. My stepfather raped me with good reason-I was there. Baxter hit Linda with good reason-she took it."