She walked down the steps as if her heart wasn’t in her throat.

“What’s this?” Ethan asked, holding up a mailing envelope. She recognized Greg’s handwriting from ten feet away. “Who else calls you Lee?”

She grabbed it from him before he could stop her. “Just about everybody who knows me,” she told him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come by to see you before work.”

She looked at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”

“It’s okay.”

“Your parole officer told you that if you were late again, she’d write you up.”

“That dyke can kiss my ass.”

“She can send you back to jail is what she can do, Ethan.”

“Chill out, okay?” He made a grab for the envelope, but again she was too quick. He frowned and asked, “What is it?”

Lena saw she wasn’t going to get out of the driveway until she opened the envelope. She turned it over, pulling the tape carefully like she was an old lady trying to save the wrapping paper on a present.

“What is it?” Ethan repeated.

She opened the envelope, praying to God there wasn’t something inside that would cause a problem. She slid out a CD with a blank white label on it. “It’s a CD,” she said.

“A CD of what?”

“Ethan,” Lena began, looking back at the house. She could see Nan peering through the front window. “Get in the car,” she told him.

“Why?”

She popped the hatch so he could stow his bike. “Because you’re going to be late for work.”

“What’s the CD?”

“I don’t know.” She started to pick up his bike, but he took over, the muscles on his arms flexing against his long-sleeved T-shirt. Back in his skinhead days, he had tattooed himself all over with Aryan Nazi symbols, and now he seldom wore anything that would expose them- especially at his job bussing tables at the university coffee shop.

She got into the car, waiting for him to secure the bike and get in. Lena tucked the CD over the visor, hoping he would forget about it. Ethan pulled it out as soon as he settled into the seat.

“Who sent you this?”

“Just a friend.” She told him, “Put on your seat belt.”

“Why was it taped to your car?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to come inside.”

Lena realized she had said “he” about a second after the word left her mouth. She tried to act like it hadn’t happened, putting the car into reverse and backing out of the driveway. As she turned back around, she chanced a look at Ethan. His jaw was so tight she was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking.

Without saying anything, he turned on her radio and pressed the eject button. His Radiohead CD slid out. He held it by the edges, forcing in Greg’s CD as if it was a pill he wanted to shove down somebody’s throat.

Lena felt herself tense as a guitar was strummed, followed by some feedback. The intro took a few seconds, heavy guitar and drums leading up to the unmistakable voice of Ann Wilson.

Ethan wrinkled his nose like there was a bad smell. “What’s this shit?”

“Heart,” she said, trying to keep her emotions flat. Her own heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it over the music.

He kept scowling. “I’ve never heard this song before.”

“It’s a new album.”

“A new album?” he repeated, and even though she kept her eyes on the road she could still feel him staring a hole into her. “Aren’t they the ones who were fucking each other?”

“They’re sisters,” Lena said, disgusted that old rumor was still around. Heart had made a huge impact on the rock scene, and invariably, the boys in charge had felt threatened enough to spread nasty rumors. Being a twin, Lena had heard every filthy male fantasy about sisters there was. The thought of it made her sick.

Ethan turned up the volume a notch as she coasted through a stop sign. “It’s not bad,” he said, probably testing her. “Is this the fat one singing?”

“She’s not fat.”

Ethan barked a laugh.

“She can lose weight, Ethan. You’ll always be a stupid bastard.” When he just laughed again, she added, “Like Kurt Cobain was so hot.”

“I didn’t like that faggot.”

“Why is it,” Lena asked, “that every woman who doesn’t want to fuck you is a dyke and every guy who isn’t cool enough to be you is a faggot?”

“I never said-”

“My sister happened to be a lesbian,” Lena reminded him.

“I know that.”

“My best friend is a lesbian,” Lena said, even though she had never given much thought to Nan being her best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” she echoed, slamming on the brakes so hard his head nearly banged into the dashboard. “I told you to put on your fucking seat belt.”

“All right,” he said, giving her a look that said she was being an unreasonable bitch.

“Forget it,” she told him, taking off her own seat belt.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she reached over to open his door. “Jesus Christ, what-”

“Get out,” she ordered.

“What the fuck?”

She pushed him, screaming, “Get the fuck out of my car!”

“All right!” he screamed back, getting out of the car. “You’re goddamn crazy, you know that?”

She pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard, making his door slam from the momentum. She drove maybe fifty feet before hitting the brakes so hard the tires squealed. When she got out of the car, Ethan was walking up the road, his body vibrating with rage. She could see his fists were clenched and spit flew from his mouth as he yelled, “Don’t you ever drive away from me again, you stupid bitch!”

Lena felt amazingly calm as she pulled his bike out of the back of the car and dropped it on the road. Ethan started running to catch up with her. He was still running when she glanced up in her rearview mirror as she turned the corner.

“What are you smiling about?” Jeffrey asked as soon as she walked into the squad room. He was standing by the coffee machine, and she wondered if he was waiting for her.

“Nothing,” she told him.

He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

She took it, feeling cautious, saying, “Thanks.”

“You want to tell me about Terri Stanley?”

Lena felt her stomach drop.

He topped off his own cup before saying, “In my office.”

Lena led the way, sweat dripping down her back, wondering if this was finally the last straw for him. The only job she had ever known was being a cop. There was nothing else she could do. Her hiatus last year had proven as much.

He leaned on his desk, waiting for her to take a seat.

He said, “You weren’t at the picnic last year.”

“No,” she agreed, clutching the arms on the chair much as Terri Stanley had done two days before.

“What’s going on, Lena?”

“I thought…” Lena began, not able to finish her sentence. What did she think? What could she tell Jeffrey without revealing too much about herself?

“Is it the alcohol?” he asked, and for a moment she had no idea what he was talking about.

“No,” she said. Then, “I made that up.”

He didn’t seem surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she admitted. She let some of the truth come out, a thin stream of air escaping from a balloon. “Dale hits her.”

Jeffrey had been about to take a sip of coffee, but his cup stopped in midair.

“I saw bruises on her arm.” She nodded her head, like she was confirming it to herself. “I recognized them. I know what they look like.”

Jeffrey put down his cup.

“I told her I’d help her get away.”

He guessed. “She didn’t want to go.”

Lena shook her head.

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think you’re the right person to help her?”

Lena felt the heat of his stare. This was the closest they had come to talking about Ethan since she had started seeing him last year.

“I know he uses his hands on you,” Jeffrey said. “I’ve seen the marks. I’ve seen you coming in with makeup covering the bruises under your eye. I’ve seen the way you cringe when you breathe because he’s hit you so hard in the gut you can barely stand up straight.” He added, “You work in a police station, Lena. You didn’t think a bunch of cops would notice?”