She pressed both hands over the lower half of her face, her knuckles white against her skin.

A dark trail of mascara slid down her cheek toward her jaw.

“I don’t have anyplace else to sleep tonight,” she said into her palms.

“Not one single place.”

I turned the cold water tap once to check that the washer was holding, then turned around to face her.

“You’ve got a sister living in Rockford,” I said.

“She changed her number two years ago,” Vanessa said.

“She sent my Christmas card back unopened.”