The posting of the advertisement each year had become a ritual he engaged in to expiate his imagined sins. He felt compelled to do it so that he could look upon Shindler’s sad and accusing countenance. In his heart, he prayed that there would be no new clues. What great truth would be served if the killer was discovered after all these years? It could only lead to the baring of old wounds and new sorrow for himself and his wife. There had been times during the past week when he had considered not sending in the ad. Then he would conjure an image of Shindler and his courage would leave him.

The lid of the mailbox snapped back, sending the sound of metal ringing through the still cold air. Nor man’s shoulders straightened as if a great weight had been removed.

The baby was crying again. It was harder to get up every time. Sometimes she thought about staying in bed until the cries became whimpers and finally stopped. Then she would feel guilt. It was an unnatural thing to want your baby to die. She loved her baby. It was just that she was so tired.

If John was here, she thought. But John had left Esther Pegalosi all alone. John had left because of the baby. No, it wasn’t the baby. The others had left her and there had been no baby. She was to blame. She was the one.

The baby howled. Esther opened her eyes and looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. Still dark outside. She felt empty. What was she? A machine that ran on food. Get up, feed, go to the bathroom, sleep. No purpose. Less than a machine. At least a machine had a purpose. It capped bottles or pressed shapes out of steel.

Esther pushed herself to her feet. She could see herself in the mirror. She had lost most of the weight from her pregnancy and she was getting her figure back. She took off her nightgown and stood naked. Her legs were long and her hips wide. Her stomach was regaining its muscle tone. And then there were her breasts. John had loved her breasts. So had the others. He would kiss them and bite them. They were large and firm, nicely shaped even after the pregnancy. She had a good body. A beautiful body. They had all said so. But somehow it had never been enough.

How long had she known John? A year and a half? Two seemed more like it. She had been working as a waitress at Foley’s Truck Stop near the Interstate. She was pretty, so all the customers used to joke with her and she got her share of propositions, many of which she accepted. But John had been different. He was quieter, more serious. He wasn’t lewd like most of them. No pats on the rear or behind-the-back comments that were supposed to be overheard.

They had gone to the movies a few times and he had been a real gentleman. He had even brought her flowers once. The dating was sporadic, because he was on the road so much, but she started looking forward to seeing him. She didn’t feel about him the way that the women in the confession magazines and romance novels felt, but she felt comfortable with him. He was gentle and treated her with respect and she appreciated that in him. She wanted to be in love, like in the books, but she settled for having someone nearby who, she thought, cared.

The baby’s fists were tight and his color bright red. His mouth was so wide. Screaming. He was always screaming. Why couldn’t he be a quiet baby? He never rested. He never let her rest. She picked him up and rocked him. Her motions were automatic. There was no love in them, only desperation.

Very little had changed for Esther before she married John. After high school, she had moved out and gotten an apartment and a job. There had been plenty of men, but they hadn’t stayed long. They would say that they loved her and, with each new promise of happiness, she would give herself. But the affairs never lasted long.

Then John asked her to marry him. The proposal frightened her. She had prayed so hard for happiness and now that it was really there it terrified her. That night, she cried herself to sleep. He was a good man, she told herself. Then why does he want me? None of the others saw anything in me worth wanting.

She was sick with worry and did not go to work the next day. She was afraid that he would take the proposal back, as if it was a door-to-door sales offer. She could not have stood that. For once things were working out. This might be her only chance. Maybe she would be happy after all.

A judge at the county courthouse married them. They pooled their salaries and rented a small apartment. Then John lost his job. He tried real hard at first, but the job market was tight. After a while, he just gave up. He would sit in front of the TV all day. He started to drink more than usual and the frequency of their sex decreased. He had always been an ardent lover. It thrilled her when he told her how good she was, when he caressed her and kissed her. But after he lost his job he was always tired and on the occasions when they did have sex it was always fast, with little or no foreplay.

The baby sucked greedily at the bottle. Esther’s head lolled to one side and she tried to stay awake. After he finished, she would change him. Then, hopefully, he would sleep for a few hours. He looked so peaceful sucking. It was an illusion. She hated him. She felt guilt as soon as she thought it. No, she did not hate her baby. She loved her baby. It was herself she hated. She blamed the baby for losing John, but he was just a baby. Only John would not have left her if she had not become pregnant.

When she told him that she had missed her period and thought she was pregnant, he had said nothing. It hurt her. She hoped that he would be happy. This would be their baby. Something they could have and love together. But the news had not made him happy. He became taciturn, sullen. There were constant arguments over finances.

She began to hate the baby even before it was born. She could see how it was breaking them apart. Wedging its tiny body between her and the only happiness she had ever known. She sensed that he would leave her. He never said anything about going, but the idea filled every room of their apartment. Then one day he was gone.

The baby’s mouth sagged and fell off the nipple. He relaxed and his eyes closed. She would not change him, she decided. She could not risk waking him and starting the crying again. She placed him in the crib and left. Maybe he would sleep for a long time.

Esther crawled back under the covers and closed her eyes. The hardest thing she had ever done was to return to this apartment with the baby. The walls were her prison and the baby was her keeper. It was a life sentence. Sometimes she thought that she would be better off dead. If she had died in childbirth…She imagined the doctors in white. They would look solemn. The bouncing dot on the life monitoring machine would stretch slowly into a straight line. They would have told John that she and the baby were dead. He would have cried and there would have been roses at the funeral and a minister to say nice things about her.

But she wasn’t dead. And, sometimes, she hoped. She tried not to, but when she was weak or tired, like now, she could not help herself. She wasn’t much. She could see that. But there were other people like her who were somebody. All she really wanted was…was to be somebody. She started to cry.

Cindy Shaeffer heard her husband’s troubled breathing and knew that he was awake. Outside it was still dark and she lay without moving, wondering what she should do. It was like this almost every night. She felt so helpless.

He was stirring. She knew he would be exhausted. He sighed and it sounded like a moan. She turned toward him and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, his forehead beaded with sweat. She put an arm across his chest and hugged him. Mark felt her embrace, but it did not comfort him.