Blair’s phone lit the dark like a siren. She stared at the door. Red paint had dried in thick strokes across the wood: HOMEWRECKER. “I told you to call the police,” Mrs. Park said. “I did,” Blair said. “I don’t have one,” Blair said, then corrected herself. “Not one that’s safe.”

“You need sleep,” she said.

“I need a new name,” Blair said.

Mrs. Park softened. “But I’m here.” Blair waited until her steps ...