There they are again—Nan, Lily and Alice, sipping Joy Juice on Alice’s front porch. Delane, Alice’s mannequin, is looking on, as usual. When the discovery of a severed hand and the disappearance of Lily brings the police to the door, the women are finally jolted from their front porch indolence, forced to face the complexities of their tortured pasts.

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“What the hell?”

Daryl swerved to avoid running over something on the road, then stopped.

“No way. There’s no way.”

He got out of the car to take a look. He stood over it for several minutes, trying to allow the image to register.

“Good fuckin’ lord.”

It was a hand. A person’s hand. Not a plastic Halloween costume hand or a prosthetic hand. It was a human hand. He thought for a moment it was a glove, the way it lay with the fingers stiff, pointed upward and curled in. A Ski-Doo glove. But the fingers were too small and each of them was twisted in a certain way, with individual knuckles and such. The colour of the hand was like Fruit Bottom Yogurt â�� wild berry or mixed berry. The hand itself was not scarred or cut. The fingernails were clean and well manicured, short and wide. It was a man’s hand.

He decided he'd better pick it up and take it with him.