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Heather lifts her wrist from the cart. The translucent purple bead catches beneath the fluorescent lights between yellow and green.

I look at the man in the photograph. Nathaniel has a sister and enough of a life outside Heather’s house for somebody to cover a town in his face.

“His name’s Oliver,” I say.

Heather holds out her hand without praising me.

The doors open again. I take Heather’s hand before they close.

CHAPTER 43

Jamie

They’ve been gone fifty-seven minutes when I move Simon out of his bedroom. His little body fits across my palm, dressed in the red sleep pants Heather made for him.

I carry him downstairs inside the dollhouse and stand him in the tiny kitchen with both hands against the counter. Food is his, so he can stay with it.

Oliver watches from the playroom doorway. He’s checked the clock almost as often as I have, but every time I catch him, he drops his eyes to the same fucking page.

“She’ll notice,” he says. He closes his book over one finger to hold his place.

“I know.” I adjust Simon until his face points toward the miniature stove.

Oliver looks at the empty red bed. “Is that supposed to punish him?”

“He got to leave with her.” I open the blue room and lift my doll from the bed. Vanilla rises from his hair when I bring him close. “He doesn’t get everything.”

The tiny version of me’s painted eyes have gone soft from Heather touching them. I carry him out of the playroom.

Oliver follows me into the hall. “Where are you taking that?”

“Somewhere Simon hasn’t been.” I turn toward the back of the house.

Heather’s bedroom door is closed. I open the door. Nothing’s changed since the morning Heather made us clean it. The pink mushroom lamp sits in the center of the nightstand, her book is turned facedown beside it, and the cover on the bed is smooth.

Oliver stops behind me before I reach the bed. His attention follows the doll in my hand. “You broke my nose for entering this room.”

“I split your lip.” I cross to the bed. “Your nose was fine.”

“Thank you for the correction.” He shuts the door behind us. “What exactly makes this different?”

I set my doll on Heather’s pillow. He looks too small there, so I pull back the edge of the blanket and lay him beneath the place where her shoulder will rest.

“You came in here looking for a way out.” I spread his black hair across her pillow with one finger. “I’m putting myself farther in.”

Oliver stares at the doll. “You believe she’ll approve of this.”

“She’ll understand it.” I straighten the tiny blue collar and leave Heather’s cover folded beneath his chin.

Oliver’s eyes drop to the key at my throat. “Give me the closet key.”

My fingers close over it. “That wasn’t asking.”

He could take the key. We already know which parts of each other bruise first.

Oliver stays where he is. “May I have the closet key, Jamie?”

It sounds better than it should. I let him believe it might work until his mouth begins to tighten.