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The whole thing with Sarah made me crazy sick. I was pulling on stray lock of my long red hair, trying to figure out how I was going to kill Bruce when Dr. Rand called me out of the blue.

"Lizzy, you stupid idiot," he said. "Why didn't you call me as a witness?" He was like that. Right to the point.

"You know I can't subpoena you," I said. "There's a doctor patient privilege."

"When is the hearing?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Around ten."

Rand hung up. That was it.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to decide if I should call Preacher, but the doorbell rang. I went to the front window. My intestines knotted up around my gut when I saw the kid's dad standing out there.

Now, Bruce shouldn't have been within a hundred yards of my place, but then the law never really stopped him before. I opened the door, against all better judgment, and he sneered as he threw some kind of book at my feet. I kept my eyes on him as the book fluttered open and then thumped to a stop right by my big toe. He stayed out on the front porch, holding the screen door open.

"Read it and weep," he said.

"You've got a clich for every occasion," I said.

"Ooh, listen to you now with all your big words. You were nothing but a gutter rat when I picked you up."

"Uh, clich' is not a big word," I said. I was keeping cool on the outside, but inside I was wishing I had a big, heavy pump shotgun, the kind that makes a sinister snick when you chamber the first round.

"Whatever," he said. He took a step back and let the screen door slam shut. "See you in court tomorrow."

God, what did I ever see in that guy?

"How's the stomach?" he asked.

"Fine," I said. I was lying. Even after two months in the hospital, the lining of my stomach was still full of holes from the rat poison he'd forced down my throat. The good news was that I'd lost a bunch of weight and was looking pretty good. All my bruises were healed up and no new ones since I'd changed the locks. Sarah and Sammy were starting to feel the difference too. It was like we could taste the new life that waited for us just beyond the divorce, and we liked it. And yet I had this haunting feeling that we would never really be rid of him.

I glanced down. The book was actually a report bound with black loops along the side. The yellow cover faced down, so all I could see was the back. I reached down and picked it up.

"What is this?" I asked.

"The CSD report," Bruce said. He stood on the edge of the porch, gloating.

"What CSD report?"

Bruce chuckled and turned around.

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