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hostility.
    “What’s she doing here?”
    “Rachel’s come back to Salvation,” Carol said coldly.
    Rachel remembered that Carol was divorced and had a son, but she would never have recognized this boy as the quiet, conservative-looking child she vaguely recalled.
    The teenager stared at her. He hardly looked like a model of religious devotion, and she couldn’t understand such naked animosity.
    She quickly turned away and discovered she was shaking as she headed into the next aisle. Before she’d gone far, she heard Carol’s angry voice. “I’m not buying all that junk food for you.”
    “I’ll buy it myself!”
    “No, you won’t. And you’re not going out with those loser friends of yours tonight, either.”
    “We’re just going to a movie, and you can’t stop me.”
    “Don’t you lie to me, Bobby! You had liquor on your breath the last time you came home. I know exactly what you and your friends are doing!”
    “You don’t know shit.”
    Edward looked up at Rachel, his eyes startled. “Is she that boy’s mom?”
    Rachel nodded and hurried him to the end of the aisle.
    “Don’t they love each other?”
    “I’m sure they do. But they’ve got problems, pup.”
    As she finished her shopping, she was conscious of the attention she was attracting, which ranged from puzzled glances to condemning murmurs. Even though she’d expected animosity, the extent of it upset her. Three years might have passed, but the people of Salvation, North Carolina, hadn’t forgiven a thing.
    As she and Edward walked along the highway carrying their small supply of food, she tried to understand Bobby Dennis’s reaction to her. He and his mother were clearly at odds, so she doubted that he was simply reflecting Carol’s feelings. Besides, his antipathy had seemed more personal.
    She stopped thinking about Bobby as she spotted a large grandpa car with Florida plates, the only kind she dared stick her thumb out for. A widow from Clearwater driving a maroon Crown Victoria stopped and took them back to the drive-in. As Rachel stepped out of the car, she turned her foot and the frail straps on the right sandal snapped. The sandals were beyond repair, and now she had only one pair of shoes left. Another loss.
    Edward fell asleep just before nine o’clock. She sat barefoot on the trunk of the Impala with an old beach towel wrapped around her shoulders and gazed down at the crumpled magazine photo that had brought her back. She carefully unfolded it and, flicking on the flashlight she carried with her, looked down into the face of Gabe’s older brother, Cal.
    Although they bore a strong resemblance, Cal’s rugged features had been softened by an almost goofy look of happiness, and she wondered if his wife, the attractive, rather scholarly-looking blond pictured smiling at his side, was responsible. They’d been photographed in Rachel’s old house, a vast, overly ornate mansion on the other side of Salvation. It had been confiscated by the federal government to help cover Dwayne’s unpaid taxes, and it had stood vacant until Cal had bought it and its contents when he was married.
    The picture had been taken in Dwayne’s former study, but it wasn’t sentimentality that had made her rip it from the magazine. Instead, it was the object she’d spotted in the background of the photograph. Sitting on the bookcases directly behind Cal Bonner’s head was a small, brass-bound leather chest, barely the size of half a loaf of bread.
    Dwayne had bought the chest about three and a half years ago from a dealer who kept her husband’s expensive purchases anonymous. Dwayne had coveted it because it had once belonged to John F. Kennedy—not that Dwayne had been a Kennedy fan, but he loved everything associated with the rich and famous. In the weeks before his death, as the legal net had tightened around him, she’d frequently seen Dwayne gazing at the chest.
    One afternoon he’d called her from a landing strip north of town and, in