“How do you think it’s going in there?” Bobby was sitting on Lacey’s bed the night after their conversation with Clay, gently massaging vitamin E oil onto the developing scars on her legs. They knew that Clay was talking to Gina in their bedroom, telling her that Mackenzie might possibly be his daughter.

“I think Clay is lucky that Gina is madly in love with him, and they’ll be okay,” she said, wincing at the pain he was causing her. She knew it was important to massage the scars to prevent adhesions from forming, but that knowledge didn’t stop the procedure from hurting. She was lying on her back in her panties and T-shirt, well aware that her chewed-up legs looked anything but sexy these days. She suddenly chuckled. “This is so romantic, isn’t it?” she said. “Having you massage my revolting legs?”

“I think it’s very romantic, actually,” he said. “And it could be even more so if you’d let me massage the rest of you, too.” He shifted on the bed so he could lift the hem of her shirt up a few inches. He ran his slick hand over the skin of her stomach, from the bottom of her ribs to the top of her panties, and it felt wonderful to have him stroke her there, one of the few places on her body where touch could give her pleasure instead of pain. Bobby had been so good to her since the attack, but he hadn’t kissed her until tonight, as if fearing she was too fragile to be touched.

“Lacey!” he said suddenly, and her eyelids flew open at what sounded like alarm in his voice.

“What?”

“You devil!” he said. “You have a pierced belly button.”

She laughed, glancing down at the tiny tiger’s eye protruding from the skin above her navel. “Surprise,” she said.

“And here you were giving me a hard time about my earring.”

She reached up and touched the gold hoop. “I love your earring,” she said. And I love you, she wanted to say, but she and Bobby were not quite there yet. Not quite ready for those words. One day they would be, though. She knew that, and she could wait.

Her phone rang, and Bobby lifted the receiver from the cradle and handed it to her.

“Hello,” she said, closing her eyes again as he continued to rub her stomach.

“Is this Lacey?” a woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Lacey, this is Faye Collier. Fred—Rick’s—mother.”

Why was Rick’s mother calling her? Her memory of the woman was vague with all that had happened since their meeting at the cottage. Her memory of Rick himself was growing vaguer by the day, and for that she was grateful. If anything good had come from the past two weeks, it was that she had learned which of the two men in her life was by far the best.

“Why are you calling?” Lacey asked, hoping she did not sound rude.

“I just wanted to see how you are,” Faye said. “I think about you every day and hope that you’re healing well. Are you having much pain?”

“Define ‘much,’” Lacey said, annoyed by the question as well as by the call, but then she knew she truly was sounding rude. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just about gotten Rick out of my mind, and I’m not sure why you’re calling me. And yes, I have a lot of pain.”

Bobby looked concerned. “Who is it?” he whispered, and she mouthed the words “Rick’s mother.”

There was a long pause on Faye’s end of the line. “I’m not calling to defend Rick,” Faye said. “What he did was inexcusable. I know you’ve suffered so much because of my family, and that’s why I’m calling. Just to see how you are. I guess I need to know you’re okay.”

It was Lacey’s turn to hesitate. She found sharp, ugly responses coming into her head, but nothing that had happened to her was this woman’s fault.

“I’m all right,” she said. “My doctor says I’m healing well. It’s just going to take a long time.”

“What pain meds are you on?” Faye asked.

Lacey ran down the list of medications she was taking.

“Good,” Faye said. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I’m the head of a chronic pain program in a hospital in San Diego, so I know something about what works and what doesn’t. How much are you taking of each of them?”

“I try to take as little as I can get away with,” Lacey said. “I don’t like to be so dependent on drugs.”

“It’s important to stay on top of the pain, Lacey,” Faye said. “Don’t wait until it’s got you in its grip. We used to tell people to tough it out—which I think is what you’re trying to do—but that only makes it worse. That causes you to tense up and makes the pain harder to treat in the long run.”

Her own doctor had said the very same thing, and she’d ignored him, but maybe they both knew a bit more about this than she did. “All right,” she conceded. “I’ll try to be better about it.”

“How are you doing with your anger?”

Now Lacey was really getting irritated, so much so that she had to put her hand over Bobby’s because even his touch was starting to chafe.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“When you left Fred’s cottage, you were understandably furious. You said you’d write a scathing victim’s statement, or whatever it’s called. I was just wondering—”

“I haven’t been able to write it,” she said. “I got sidetracked by a hundred-pound dog. But I will.”

Faye hesitated, then spoke again. “I don’t know Zach anymore,” she said, sounding suddenly very tired. “I do know at one time he was a good man. I know he had some sort of terrible breakdown. I don’t know if he should get out of prison or not. I don’t have, or want to have, any say in that. But I think it’s important that you don’t base the statement that you write about Zachary on your anger toward Fred. Toward Rick. That’s not fair.”

“Faye…” Lacey felt her anger mounting. “I frankly don’t care about being fair to your ex-husband.”

“I’m not thinking about him,” Faye said. “I’m thinking about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that that anger you’re holding on to…that sense of revenge…it’s like swallowing poison and expecting someone else to die. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand it. I just don’t get why you’re saying it, though.”

“Because you’re the one that poison will ultimately hurt, Lacey. You need peace of mind to be able to heal, both physically and emotionally.”

“You sound like Rick,” Lacey said. “Forgive and forget.”

“No, never forget,” Faye said quickly. “Rick had an ulterior motive. You know that. You should never forget what happened.”

“Faye…I’m sorry, but I’m really tired,” Lacey said. “I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait a second,” the woman said hurriedly. “I didn’t see Zachary while I was there. I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I frankly have no idea if Fred’s assessment of him as rehabilitated is accurate. But I think that may be a piece of information you need to have to be able to write your statement. Don’t base your testimony on your anger, Lacey. Base it on reality. Whatever you write, make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

Lacey pled exhaustion once more, then handed the phone to Bobby, who rested it back in its cradle.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

Lacey looked at him. “Do you think it’s possible for someone to truly be rehabilitated?” she asked.

Bobby grinned at her. “Hey, babe,” he said, “Just look at me.”

The following morning, Lacey walked into the kitchen to find herself alone with Gina and Rani. She searched her sister-in-law’s face for some clue to her emotional state after learning that Clay might be Mackenzie’s father, but Gina only smiled at her as she set a bowl of cereal on the tray of Rani’s high chair.

“How are you this morning?” Gina asked her.

“Good,” Lacey said, taking a seat at the table. “Much better, actually.” For the first time, she did not feel as though every molecule in her body had been shredded and pasted back together. Maybe she was just getting better, or maybe it was that she’d listened to Faye’s advice and taken her medication both the night before and this morning instead of waiting for the pain to hit her first. Or maybe it was that Bobby had spent the entire night in her bed, lying next to her, just keeping her company with no demands or expectations of anything more.

“Clay’s already left for work?” Lacey asked.

“Uh-huh.” Gina poured coffee into a mug and handed it to her. “And Bobby’s driving Mackenzie to the bus stop.” And, Lacey knew, visiting Elise after he dropped Mackenzie off. Elise had fallen down on her promise to keep in touch with him, and he was worried about her.

“I go swimming today!” Rani said.

“You are?” Lacey said. “Are you getting to be a good swimmer?”

Rani nodded, plucking a piece of banana from the top of her cereal and stuffing it into her mouth.

“She’s doing great,” Gina said. “You love the water, don’t you, Rani?”

Rani nodded again, the banana making speech impossible.

“I guess the real question is, how are you this morning?” Lacey asked Gina.

Gina sat down next to Rani’s high chair. She lowered her eyes to her own coffee mug, running the tip of her finger over the handle.

“I feel sorry for Clay,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet Lacey’s. “All his mistakes are coming back to haunt him.”

Lacey nodded. She knew how upset with himself Clay was for bringing Wolf into their lives against Gina’s wishes. And now he had to face his long-ago indiscretion with Jessica Dillard, as well.

“Were you shocked?” Lacey asked.

Gina smiled, and there was something secretive about it. It was a moment before she spoke.

“He’d already told me about Jessica,” she said. “When she died, he was more upset than he let on to you, because he knew her a little better than you thought he did. Not that they had any sort of real relationship, but I think…as an adult, he looked back and saw how he’d used her. So the night after she died, he told me what he’d done—that he’d slept with her at a party when he was seventeen, that she was a sweet kid who was screwed up, and that he took advantage of that fact. In other words, he let me know that he’d been a jerk, in case I couldn’t figure it out on my own from what he was telling me.”

“I’m glad you two have that kind of relationship,” Lacey said, surprised that her brother had so openly confided in Gina.

“Me, too,” Gina said.

“Me, too!” Rani added, and Lacey and Gina laughed.

“Drink your juice, Rani,” Gina said, pushing the cup a little closer to the cereal bowl on Rani’s tray. Gina looked at Lacey. “Do you know that Clay and your dad are meeting with the lawyer again today?” she asked. “They’re going to go forward without a statement from you, so you don’t need to have that hanging over your head anymore.”

“Oh,” Lacey said, wondering why she felt no relief at that news.

“It must give you some peace of mind,” Gina continued. “I know how that’s been driving you crazy.”

“I think I figured something out,” Lacey said. She took a long drink of her coffee before continuing. “I haven’t been able to write it because I’ve been focusing on my mother and my family, not on the killer,” she said. “My mother’s already gone. My family’s healing. But Zachary Pointer’s the one who’ll stay in or out of prison based on what we say. He’s the one the statement should really be about.”

Gina looked confused. “What are you saying, Lace?” she asked.

“That I still want to write my statement,” she said, standing up, the coffee mug in her hand, “but there’s something else I have to do first.”