“Her husband hasn’t returned one phone call,” Henna Lady says. “If he wasn’t in Korea, I’d say he did it.” I slow down, survey the spices. Ground cayenne pepper, peppercorns, paprika, cinnamon. I stand on my tiptoes to grab a jar of cayenne pepper.
“Mike thinks someone’s not talking,” her friend replies. “Nobody vanishes into the air—”
“She lives right by the forest. Maybe she wanted to end it quietly, you know?”
“With a daughter in kindergarten?”
Henna Lady shakes her head. “You know he wouldn’t even talk to her on the phone? Married twenty years, she had to call his—”
“What are you doing?” Mom barks behind me. “I told you, get the milk and come back. If you can’t do what I ask, you can wait in the car.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to not be the kind of p
