Angela opened the door slowly, her heart rising into her throat as she saw Jane standing on her stoop. She had known this day would come, honestly she had expected it much sooner.

”Janie!” She forced cheerfulness into her tone but Jane was on to her. She always knew. Squinting at her mother, Jane gasped, stepping back suddenly as a look of horror contorted her face grotesquely.

”You knew?” she accused. ”You knew she was leaving?”

Angela reached out, grabbing Jane’s arm and pulling her towards the house. ”Come inside Janie.” Angela pleaded. ”Please.”

Jane wrenched her arm free. ”You knew?” her voice shook with emotion. She couldn’t understand how her mother could know something like this and not tell her. ”And you didn’t tell me?” Jane backed away. ”How could you not tell me?”

”Janie, please. Come inside.”

Jane stopped and held up a hand to silence her mother. ”Don’t call me that.” She growled. ”You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

”I’m sorry Jane.” Angela whispered softly. ”She was like a daughter to me.”

”Yeah.” Jane agreed. ”I bet. Someone you could take shopping, talk about boys, get your manicures together?” Sarcasm coated her anger as she continued to back away slowly. ”I’m sorry you lost your daughter.” Jane spat.

”Janie?” Tears flowed freely down Angela’s face. ”I meant another daughter.”

Jane waved away her explanations as she strode to her car and started the engine. Peeling away from the curb in a cloud of smoke and tyre squeal, she left her mother sobbing in the centre of the road.

Jane drove; it was all she could think of to do. They knew, they all knew that Maura was leaving and they didn’t tell her. She hadn’t expected Maura to forgive her, nor to speak to her really but she hadn’t expected everyone in her life to turn their back on her, to side with the medical examiner. It was a good shooting, IA had cleared them all.

The engine idled as she sat at the curb, staring up at the dark house. Autopilot always brought her here. Home. The ’for sale’ sign stabbed at her heart, taunting her and mocking her loss. She stepped from the vehicle, slamming the door loudly before crossing to the front door. How many times had she done this over the years, walked up to Maura’s door and let herself in? She still had a key. Trying the cold metal in the lock, she was surprised to find it still worked. What she saw turned her stomach. It was true. Empty rooms that were once so full of life, art from all over the world covered walls and adorned tables, the warmth that danced in the air and mingled with the scent of Maura. Those were the things that made this home. Now they, like the doctor, were gone.