Kitt scrawled Sadie Marie Lundgren in purple, Sadie’s favorite color, across the bag. She couldn’t bring herself to do more, it hurt too much.

The memorial garden was located at the very center of the main hall, cordoned off by a white picket fence. She found the location appropriate-for weren’t the victims of the disease at the heart of the drive to find a cure?

Kitt handed the attendant Sadie’s bag and watched as the woman placed it, then lit the candle.

She wasn’t the first to place a light for Sadie.

Joe was there.

A lump in her throat, Kitt stared at a second luminaria with her daughter’s name on it.

Our Peanut. Sadie Marie.

The lump became tears. They burned her eyes. God, she missed Sadie. And Joe. Being a mom.

She missed her family.

“Kitt?”

Joe. She didn’t want him to catch her crying. Especially if he wasn’t alone. Blinking to clear her eyes, she turned.

“Joe,” she said stiffly. “Hello.”

She shifted her gaze to the woman with him. She looked to be a good ten years younger than he was, with soft brown hair and eyes.

Joe’s fiancée looked nothing like her. Even their builds were different-Kitt was tall and angular, Valerie petite and curvy. She wasn’t sure why that was such a surprise-or why it upset her so much. Perhaps she had imagined he’d picked a clone of her. A sort of stand-in because he still pined for her.

“I’m Kitt,” she managed to say, and held out her hand.

“Valerie.” The woman smiled and took it. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She sounded nice. She looked sincere. Kitt wished she could hate her, but that only made her feel worse.

A pretty, fair-haired girl rushed up to Valerie, face aglow with excitement. She held up a plastic zipper bag, half-filled with water. A pitiful-looking goldfish swam inside.

Kitt stared at the child, guessing her age to be nine or ten. Her fingers went numb. A rushing sound filled her head.

Valerie had a child.

Joe was going to be a father again.

“This is my daughter, Tami. Tami, this is Detective Lundgren.”

The child peeked at her, then turned her face into her mother’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Valerie said. “She’s extremely shy. It’s partly because of her-”

Kitt didn’t let the woman finish. Blinded by tears, she turned on her heel and hurried toward the exit.

Valerie had a child. A daughter.

Joe was replacing Sadie.

“Kitt, wait!”

She began to run, wanting nothing more than to be away from him. And the girl with the soft brown eyes and shy smile.

He caught up with her just outside the main doors. He captured her elbow and turned her to face him.

“Let me go, Joe!”

“Not until we talk.”

“About what? You trying to replace our daughter?”

“It’s not that way.”

“How old is she?”

His expression said it all, and her breath caught on a sob. “How could you do this?”

“I need to live again, Kitt. I need to move on.”

“Start a new life,” she said bitterly. “A new family.”

He caught her other arm. “Wanting a life doesn’t dishonor our daughter’s memory. Wanting what I had and lost doesn’t dishonor her memory. It celebrates it.”

“Let me go,” she said. “I don’t want to hear your self-serving justifications.”

“Sadie would hate what we’ve become. She would hate what you’ve become. Think about that.”

She jerked her hands free, shaking with the force of her anger and betrayal. “I’m never going to forgive you for this, Joe. Never!”

For long moments, they stood that way, gazes locked. Kitt couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She longed to throw herself into his arms and weep for all they had lost-and beg him not to marry Valerie.

Finally, he took a step back from her. “I’m really sorry, Kitt. But I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.”

He turned and walked away. She watched him go, crushed. Her marriage was over. Soon Joe would belong to another woman. Be part of another family.

A sound of pain caught in her throat. Until now, this very minute, she had still thought of him as hers.

“For you, pretty lady.”

She shifted her gaze to the clown who had come up to her. His painted face serious, he held out one of the balloons he was selling. A pink one.

Her vision blurred, she shook her head, unable to speak.

Stubbornly, he held the balloon out. “To make you smile again.”

The clown had seen the exchange between her and Joe. Perhaps he had heard it as well. He felt sorry for her.

But not as sorry as she felt for herself.

Helplessly, she took the balloon. He bowed, his orange wig bobbing with the movement, then shuffled off.

Clutching the pink balloon, Kitt headed for her empty home.

30

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

11:00 p.m.

The shrill scream of the phone awakened her. Kitt cracked open her eyes, head and vision swimming. She moved her gaze over the dark room, disoriented.

The phone screamed again. She reached for it, sending something on the nightstand tumbling. A glass, she realized.

An empty glass.

One that had been filled with vodka.

She brought the device to her ear. “H’lo. Lun’ren here.”

“Kitt? Is that you? It’s Danny.”

“Danny?” she repeated, struggling to shake the cobwebs from her head. Shake off the effects of the alcohol.

She had fallen off the wagon. Given in to her feeling of betrayal and her despair. How could she have been so stupid and weak?

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine. I was sleeping.” She cleared her throat and dragged herself up to see the clock. “What time is it? It feels like the middle of the night.”

“About eleven.”

She heard the disappointment in his voice. The suspicion. A drunk recognized another drunk’s bender.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to sound normal. Sober.

He was silent a moment. “Nothing. I was thinking about you. We haven’t spoken since last week and…I just wanted to make certain you’re doing okay.”

“I’m doing great.” She cringed as the chirpy-sounding lie sprang from her lips. “I mean, as great as can be expected. Considering.”

“Considering that your ex-husband is engaged and you’re embroiled in a carbon copy of the case that sent you over the edge?”

“Exactly.” She closed her eyes and prayed he didn’t ask her if she had been drinking. She didn’t know if she could bring herself to tell him the truth.

“You could have called me, Kitt. Or another member of the group.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” He paused, as if collecting his thoughts or giving her a chance to change her answer. “I thought we were closer than this. Call me when you’re ready to be real.”

“Danny, wai-”

But he had hung up. For long moments she sat, dial tone buzzing in her ear. She felt like crap-physically and emotionally. A year of sobriety, down the toilet. With one binge, she had slipped right back into behavior she found personally abhorrent-not just the drinking, but the evasions and lies.

Kitt dropped her head to her hands. They shook. She felt ill. She needed Danny to help her through this. She needed her group, her support system.

She jumped as the phone jangled again. Danny, she thought. He hadn’t been able to leave it this way between them.

She snatched up the receiver. “Danny, you were right. I’m so sor-”

“Danny? Should I be jealous, dear one?”

Not her friend.

Him.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“That’s not very nice, Kitten.”

“I’m not in a nice mood.”

“And after all I’ve done for you.”

“And what would that be? The wild-goose chase you sent me on? Thanks.”

He chuckled. “It may have seemed that way to you. You have to have faith.”

“I have faith, all right. That I’ll find you and your copycat, and you’ll both rot in prison.”