A few minutes earlier, the baby had been something he threatened me with.

Now she connected him to Gavin Rochester.

I turned away from the glass.

At the Crestview estate, someone showed me a suite overlooking trees.

There were pale walls, a bed far larger than I needed, and a bathroom with a cupboard already stocked with ordinary things: a toothbrush, a comb, unscented soap.

An assistant began describing a dressing room and the clothes that could be ordered.

“I have clothes,” I said.