Now it was lying in my hands again.
“That’s impossible,” I murmured.
The dog remained still.
As I turned the rabbit over, something hard shifted inside its body.
I froze.
There was something hidden beneath the stuffing.
I hurried into the kitchen and placed the toy on the counter. The dog stayed outside the screen door, watching me.
“Don’t leave,” I told him. “Please.”
My phone began to ring.
Marlene’s name appeared on the screen.
I almost ignored it, but guilt made me answer.
“Diane, darling,” she said warmly. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sound breathless.”
“I was hanging laundry.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said. “You still go to the cemetery every Sunday, don’t you?”
I looked at the rabbit.
“Yes.”
“Diane, it has been two years. You can’t keep living there.”
