3

Lynn texted before she came over. Picking Ethan up from school, then on my way w/ coffee. Need anything else?

Rachel smiled. Trust Lynn to get her priorities straight.

True to her word, Lynn arrived about twenty minutes later, bearing two cups of coffee and letting herself and her son in with her spare key. “Hello?”

Rachel did not rise to greet them. She regarded Lynn and Ethan from where she lay, half-sprawled on the love seat. “Welcome to the ridiculousness that is my life.”

Lynn looked down at Rachel. Rachel could only imagine what she looked like: the hair, the rumpled workout clothes, the splint.

“You look like you could use some coffee,” Lynn said. She set a Styrofoam cup on the stack of boxes currently doubling as a coffee table and drew over another box, settling on it with ease.

The aroma of coffee drew Rachel to a half-sitting position. She reached for the cup, her spirits rising along with the gloriously scented steam. Ethan settled on some boxes in the corner with his mom’s iPhone.

“I’m sorry this place is such a wreck,” Rachel said.

“Whatever. You guys are moving soon.” Lynn turned toward Ethan. “Come give Miss Rachel a kiss.”

“It’s OK, Ethan.” Rachel waved a limp hand. “Don’t bother. I’m disgusting.” Nevertheless, Ethan obediently came across the room to kiss her cheek. At eight, Ethan currently straddled the line between childhood sweetness and the early onset of adolescent awkwardness. She caught a whiff of his weird little-kid breath as he leaned forward to brush her cheek with his chapped lips.

Lynn reached out to steady the computer chair on which Rachel had propped her splinted leg. As the sides of her blonde bob swung forward into her face, she reached a thin hand to sweep back her hair in one swift motion. “You really should get some pillows under that,” she observed. “And you need to keep it above your heart.”

Sighing, Rachel burrowed down into the love seat, hoping the motion would bring her leg at least incrementally higher than her torso. “I already packed the throw pillows, and I don’t want to touch the pillows on my bed until I’m showered. I’m repulsive.”

Lynn rose and walked to the bathroom. She returned moments later with a stack of folded towels. Gently, she lifted Rachel’s splinted leg and slipped the towels underneath. “How often have you been changing the ice packs?”

The senior member of their little friendship trio, Lynn had both the age and personality to assume the mothering role within the group. Although Lynn’s fussing occasionally annoyed Rachel, today she basked in the special attention.

“If by ice packs you mean bags of frozen food, I’ve been changing them as soon as they start getting mushy. It’s annoying, but if I don’t keep ice on it, it swells up so big that it pushes against the splint and feels like it’s going to pop. I don’t know what I’m going to do later tonight when it’s time to go to sleep.” She paused to think. “Probably just die.” Rachel sighed dramatically, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the couch cushions. “It’s fine, though. I figure it’s just a matter of time. It’ll probably just save the Memento Killer another house call.”

At Rachel’s wilting tone, Lynn cocked her head to the side. “Come stay with us tonight. I’ll take care of you and feed you and change your ice packs, and we can send Alex to his office while we watch BBC dramas and drink coffee.”

It sounded perfect. Rachel sighed again. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“Nope. For one, I’m too exhausted to pack an overnight bag.”

“I’ll pack your bag.”

“For two, I have to teach tomorrow.” She rubbed her eyes and then opened them to stare wearily across at Lynn. “I can’t stay up all night drinking coffee and try to handle school tomorrow with this stupid leg. It’s just too much.”

“Rachel. That’s crazy. You just broke a bone. You shouldn’t go back to work until the pain dies down, or at least until you’ve gotten a cast on it. And besides, I don’t like you staying here alone. Not with all these murders.”

“First, it’s not really broken. It’s just a fracture. And second, I hate to impose on you and Alex.”

“Alex doesn’t care. He wouldn’t want you staying here alone in this state either. And a fracture is a break.”

“Third, it’s only been three murders so far, and I was just kidding about the Memento Killer. He isn’t a home invader—

“They don’t think.”

“There’s never any sign of forced entry, meaning the women probably already know him somehow, which is how he decides what mementos to give them. They just don’t know that they know him, I guess—which, if you think about it, is just too creepy. But anyway, it doesn’t matter because I’m certainly not letting any men in tonight, killers or otherwise, since I can barely make it to the door. So whether I’m home alone or not is beside the point.”

Lynn frowned. “I still don’t like it.” She leaned forward and placed a cool hand on Rachel’s forehead. Evidently satisfied with what she felt there, she picked up the bag of mushy peas, walked to the kitchen, and returned with a bag of frozen corn and draped it carefully over the splint.

“Frankly, you should be more worried about Ann staying out at the barn by herself tonight.” Rachel felt no qualms about throwing Ann under the bus.

Lynn blew a quick breath upward, puffing her bangs off her forehead. “Oh, believe me, I’m worried about her too.” She smoothed back her hair. “But that’s a conversation I’m going to have with her, not you.”

Momentarily, Rachel pitied Ann.

“Serial killer or no serial killer, you should come stay with us tonight,” Lynn said.

So they were back to this. Rachel rolled her eyes. “Your house has stairs. I can’t handle stairs.” She reached for her coffee.

“I’ll make you up a nice bed on the downstairs couch. Or Alex can carry you up the stairs.”

The thought of Lynn’s thin husband staggering up the stairs like a weedy Rhett Butler was enough to send Rachel into a spasm of laughter. Since she’d been in the process of swallowing coffee at the time, the results weren’t pretty. She cupped a hand under her chin to catch the dribbles.

Lynn handed Rachel a napkin.

Rachel, still wheezing, took the proffered napkin and wiped her eyes. “Lynn, please. You’re beautiful and you’re wonderful and I love you. But to tell you the truth, today has been sort of awful. I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

And just like that—without even knowing it—Rachel had made the decision that would determine her fate for the next six weeks. Had she stayed overnight at Lynn’s, she would have had someone to talk her out of going to school the next day. If she hadn’t gone to school the next day, she would not have been scheduled for a late-afternoon appointment at the orthopedic surgeon’s office. In the long run, sometimes it’s the smallest choices that have the farthest-reaching effects.