Free Vengeance Is Mine by Joanne Fluke

wasn’t Steve’s fault. Before he’d left, he’d asked her to meet him for breakfast at ten.
    Her bedroom faced the street, and Michele heard a car drive past outside, tires muffled by the blanket of snow that had fallen. The courthouse clock chimed three times. It was three in the morning, and she had to be up at seven. Michele had never had trouble getting to sleep before the divorce. Her classmates in premed had admired her ability to catch forty winks on a break between classes, curled up in a plastic chair in the lounge. Now things were different. Dereck had given her something besides the divorce: insomnia.
    She really had to get some sleep. Michele decided to try the trick that Louise had suggested. Before Louise had taken the job at the clinic, she had worked in the children’s ward at the hospital. She said she’d told stories about sleepy baby animals to her young patients when they were restless at night.
    Michele felt a little foolish as she pictured a family of baby birds, chirping softly in the warmth of their nest. Now the mother bird was settling down to protect her babies as they slept.
    They huddled close to her, warmed by her soft downy feathers. It was a charming image, but it didn’t make her sleepy.
    Perhaps rabbits would do it. Michele pictured five baby bunnies, curled up tightly in their nest. Or did they live in burrows? Maybe she’d better stick to things she knew. Badgers lived in burrows, but Michele always got them mixed up with woodchucks. A woodchuck was another name for a groundhog. That reminded Michele of Groundhog Day. Last Sunday had been the second of February, and Minnesotans always celebrated when the skies were gray on Groundhog Day. If the groundhog came out of its burrow and saw its shadow, there would be six more weeks of winter.
    Michele sat up and switched on the light. She was wide-awake. It was a good time to write a letter to her mother. Her mother expected a weekly letter and a phone call on Sunday. She didn’t seem to mind if the contents of both were the same.
    The bedroom floor was cold, and Michele felt around under the bed for the orange wool socks she used as slippers. They weren’t in their usual place. She sighed as she remembered throwing them in the laundry basket when she’d straightened up the apartment. Steve probably wouldn’t have noticed, but she’d wanted to be sure everything was perfect. Just as she’d anticipated, Steve had insisted on checking every room to make sure it was safe when he brought her home. He had confessed it was probably unnecessary, but her apartment was only seven blocks from the place where Ray had been killed. Michele was flattered by his concern. It had dampened her enthusiasm only slightly when he did a quick walk-through and then said his good-byes in the hallway outside.
    Michele hopped from throw rug to throw rug until she reached the living-room carpet. Hardwood floors were beautiful, but they were cold in the winter. Perhaps she ought to think about carpeting the bedroom.
    The fireplace was ready to light. Michele had arranged everything before she met Steve just in case she decided to ask him in for coffee after their date. She struck a match and watched the kindling catch fire. Cords of wood were cheap in Minnesota, and there was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy her fireplace alone.
    Vivaldi’s Four Seasons was already in the tape deck. Michele switched it on and adjusted the volume. She wished she could remember which cut was “Winter,” but it didn’t really matter. No one had ever written music that sounded like winter in Minnesota. Who’d want to listen to howling winds and sleet rattling against the windows?
    Michele got a Diet Coke from the kitchen and grabbed the half-finished bag of Doritos that was hidden behind the couch. She settled down with her pen and paper and tried to think. Should she tell her mother the truth about her date with