She can walk to the killing place in fifteen minutes, or drive there in three. If she walks, they’ll think she’s been kidnapped. If she drives, someone might spot her car.

She decides to walk.

Her destination—Magic Manor Nursing Home—is the perfect place to commit a murder. It offers Sadie a wide variety of old, sick people who are already at death’s door. How bad could it be to slightly speed the process for one of them?

She exits her front door humming My Brave Face, as if not having a care in the world, but that façade crumbles the moment her feet hit the sidewalk. That’s when paranoia kicks in, along with the overwhelming sense all eyes are on her, and total strangers are studying her every move. And why shouldn’t they? There’s a killer’s on the loose. She picks up the pace and catches herself striding in lockstep to Riders on the Storm:

 

There’s a killer on the road…

 

She finally arrives at Magic Manor, walks down the hall, enters Room 24, the same room she visits every week, pulls up a chair, and patiently listens to her mother’s litany of complaints covering every mind-numbing aspect of nursing home life, from bingo to bedsores to next week’s dessert menu. Sadie bides her time, waits for the inevitable gossip session. When her mom unloads, no resident is spared. But instead of tuning her out, Sadie listens to every word and learns there are three women on the brink of death: Evelyn Carstairs, Room 18; Myra Biggelo, Room 12; and Cecile O’Neal, right next door.

When her mom falls asleep, Sadie takes the pillow from the guest chair, checks the hall to make sure she’s alone, then quietly creeps into Cecile’s room.

Thankfully, Cecile is sleeping.

Sadie crosses the floor swiftly, thinking, the faster I work the sooner I’ll finish. But as she approaches, Cecile’s eyes open. She sees the pillow and says, “Are you here to kill me?”

Sadie’s ASD makes it extremely difficult to lie. But if she answers truthfully, Cecile might scream or press the buzzer hanging from the handrail. Sadie takes a moment to calculate the likelihood of Cecile’s old, arthritic claw of a hand reaching the button before Sadie can prevent her from pressing it. While she likes her chances, she takes a step closer to hedge her bet. Then says, “I heard the bad news. I’m so sorry.”

Cecile says, “I was in the hospital two weeks before the doctors said there was nothing they could do. Then they sent me back here to die.”

“Are you in pain?”

Cecile smiles a sad smile. “It’s not so bad. My loneliness hurts worse than the cancer.”

“I can end your suffering.”

Cecile nods. “Did my granddaughter send you?”

“Excuse me?”

“My granddaughter could certainly do it, but she refuses to visit. Won’t even call on my birthday, or Christmas.”

“Are you sure about that? Because sometimes my mom forgets when I visit.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my memory, child. I always knew I’d end up this way. My name’s an anagram, you know.”

Sadie frowns. “Cecile is?” She thinks a moment, then shakes her head. “I’m usually good with puzzles, but you’ve stumped me. Unless there’s a different way of spelling it.”

“Not Cecile,” she says. “O’Neal.” She spells it.

Sadie smiles. “Got it! Last two letters go first. O’Neal is an anagram for alone.”

Cecile smiles back. “You’re a clever one.”

“Thanks. Does anyone else visit you?”

“There is no one else. I only had one child.