A young woman with a chocolate brown braid trailing from beneath her black stocking cap was the first responder on the scene. The lights from her car danced across her sparkling white world.

"What's your name?" she asked me.

"Jessica Kellerman."

People who recognized a celebrity, assuming they weren't one of the mad fans, invariably showed a predictable pattern of behavior. First came surprise, shown by widened eyes and sometimes a little gasp. Then they tried to play it cool as if it were no big deal to meet a person whose life they read about in the supermarket tabloids. Finally, they nonchalantly acted like your friend. They felt as if it was their right. They know you after all—who you've dated, the pregnancies you've lost, how much weight you've gained, which producers snubbed you. No matter to them if you had no idea what their name was. They'd seen you naked on the big screen, so they presumed an intimate connection.

Even in this horrible moment, the pattern played out across the young policewoman's delicate features. To her credit, in the end, she drew a mask of professionalism over her face and took a brief statement from Jake and me about what we'd seen, she went straight to the body in the field. We watched from near the barn as she squatted down, pressed two fingers against his bluish-tinted neck. After looking around for only a minute or so, she spoke into a radio strapped to her shoulder and returned to us.

"You found him like that?"

She cocked her head hard to the left as if trying to crack her neck and her braid slipped over her shoulder to the center of her back. The sound of it was like a snake in dry leaves. "Have you touched anything?"

Jake's arm tightened around my shoulders. "Jess checked him, kind of like you just did. Our footprints must be all around out there, but nothing beyond that, I don't think."

I leaned against my brother, grateful for his support. Last time I faced this cop I'd never felt so alone in the world. I'd even thought Jake might be dead.

Did I dream that? When had I ever thought Jake was dead? Certainly I'd never seen this woman before in my life.

"Ms. Kellerman?" Something in the officer's voice felt like sandpaper against my soul. Pity? Derision? Cool disbelief? "Are you okay?"

I looked into her light brown eyes and saw no malice there, only questions. "This is just so weird, and I have the worst feeling of déjà vu." I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I've been feeling a little out of sorts all day.

She accepted that bit of information as if it actually made sense. "I've called for backup, but it might be a few minutes. The fire at the church last night left us a little short-handed."

"Why are the cops there?" asked Jake.

"There's zero chance that fire was accidental. We're investigating, even as the firefighters finish clearing the scene."

Processing her crazy statement added to the feeling of moving within a waking dream. "I can't believe anyone would burn down a church."

Again, that strange expression I couldn't quite pin down raced across her features. "Maybe it would be better if we stepped inside to wait."

Jake released me and I wobbled for a second before I caught my balance. "Of course. Right this way."

The cop motioned for me to go ahead, so I trailed along behind Jake as I always had, up the ramp to the back door and inside where our father stood waiting, his hair still damp from the shower.

"What's happening here?" our father asked, looking the cop up and down like she was mutant that had crawled out of the septic tank.

"Dad, we went for a walk after breakfast and we found Dan Tanner's body in the field."

Our father's eyes moved from Jake to me and back to Jake again as if he was searching for something in our faces. Finally, he asked, "How'd he die?"

"He appears to have shot himself in the chest."

"Appears to have," he repeated.

"Did you see or hear anything? Judging by the looks of things he was there for most of the night if not all."

My father turned his back on us all and rummaged in the fridge for a carton of orange juice. "I didn't see nothing worth mentioning."

"Anything at all might help," the officer urged.

Dad slammed the fridge and refused to look at her. "I didn't see nothing," he said again. "You been on this job long?"

"No, sir. I'm new in town. I was brought in for my unique skill set."

He poured a glass of juice and returned the carton to precisely the place he'd taken it from. "I reckon it's good to be appreciated for what you're good at."

"Your children know something about that," she said. I suppose she was making an attempt at fostering good will. Sadly, she didn't know my father well enough to know her effort was doomed to fail.

Harsh words didn't come, as I expected. Rather, he sat down at the table and stared at me. "What's your part in all this, girl?"

"My part?" How much was a person expected to put up with? "I'm going to my room. My head's killing me." To the officer, I said, "If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll be here for at least another day."

My father watched my every move.

"Okay with you if I lay down before this throbbing headache makes me puke?"

He took a sip of his juice and shrugged. "Suit yourself. You always been good at that."

Before I could shoot my angry verbal darts back in his direction, the policewoman cleared her throat. "We may need you to stay for more than a day. We'll need a statement about your whereabouts last night and it'll take time to sort out all the details of this death. Don't leave town, okay?"

Leaving town. My car slid sideways toward heavy metal gates drawn across the road beneath the wide train bridge. A tree lay across the road, blocking access to a rough wall with no openings that I could find.

All I ever wanted was to get out of this town, Mindy had said.

There is no way out. It's not real. None of it's real.

The cops are fake, but their guns are real.

"Jess?" I blinked stupidly at my brother. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You know, I just realized I don't have everything I need for dinner tonight."

"You still carrying on with that nonsense?" my father asked.

"Of course, Dad. We came here to celebrate your birthday. We're going to do it."

"I'll come with you," Jake offered.

"No, please. Stay here in case the police need anything. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes. This has all been more than a little unsettling." Fear pulsed hot and painful through my veins. If I didn't escape my father's house I'd burst, partly because I couldn't quite pinpoint what I was afraid of.

"All right," he conceded. "Be careful out there, okay? Crazy things going on in this town lately."

And that was the god's honest truth, I thought.

Using every acting skill in my bag of tricks, I maintained a neutral tone and managed to extricate myself from the group and escape to my car. The engine turned over and I put it in reverse and backed out of the drive. Not until I started moving down the road did I notice what a mess my always-clean car had become. Dirt and leaves littered the floor and even the passenger's seat.

Where's Mindy?

At the bakery, probably. Why are you even thinking about her?

I was with her.

When?

Puzzle pieces shuffled around and around in my mind, never quite fitting together.

I'd left with no real plan about where to go, but as I moved through town, I realized I was headed toward the cemetery.