“But the neighbors... Mr. Nevins must have seen him...”

“Your neighbor—” Winnie could hear the distaste in Shelly’s voice when she said those two words “—heard the gunshots, the ones that killed Nigel and the Russel woman. Initially he thought it was fireworks from kids in the park. He called the police and I guess he made a noise complaint to them about it. Then he went about his business.”

To Winnie that sounded exactly like Mr. Nevins; the nosy, self-righteous busybody. Shelly was put off by the fact that he didn’t follow the first call with an investigation. That’s what she would have done.

“Apparently, he heard the sound again, another shot, around twenty minutes later. Only then did he decide to investigate. He walked out of his house and toward the park, where he claims to have stood for a good five minutes before turning around to go home.” As an afterthought Shelly added, “And that’s when he saw your front door open and called the police for the second time.”

“What other shot?” Winnie said. But Shelly was shaking her head.

“They don’t know. There’s something else, Winnie.” She wasn’t meeting Winnie’s eyes this time. “There were footprints in the blood.” Shelly wiped her nose with the back of her hand and looked down at the sheet. “They weren’t yours or Nigel’s or that woman’s.” She shot Winnie a look. “They were small.”

“A child’s? What do you mean?”

“They weren’t Sam’s. And he had no trace of blood on his person or clothes,” Shelly said quickly. “But that’s why that detective was here wanting to talk to you.”

“About footprints?” She was so confused. She had no idea what these footprints were about, but how long until they made the connection between her and Josalyn Russel?

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Shelly.”

“Look, I don’t know, either. They’ve questioned the Russel woman’s family, and they have no idea what she was doing in Washington. She was from Ohio, Winnie.” Shelly leaned closer, her eyes so bloodshot Winnie flinched. “Why was she at your house?”

Winnie could smell the coffee on her sister’s breath. She suddenly felt the lack of air creeping up on her and closed her eyes. Her son was safe, her son was safe.

When she opened her eyes, Shelly was staring at her intently. Winnie found this incredibly annoying. Whatever lecture there was she didn’t want to hear it; her twin brother had murdered her husband and was on the loose somewhere. Winnie braced herself for a fight. She wasn’t going to lose Samuel, not for some nutjob like Terry Russel.

“The Russel woman had a bunch of stuff in her bag...papers, an email. There was even a police report about a Jane Doe...” Shelly glanced toward the door and Winnie wanted to scream her impatience. “The email is what I have to tell you about. Someone was writing to this woman and telling her things about Sam.” Winnie felt light-headed. She gripped the rail of the bed and stared hard at her sister. She didn’t have the energy to respond in the way that Shelly wanted. “What things...?”

“That Sam was her dead daughter’s son. And that you had stolen him from her.”

Winnie didn’t have to feign shock; the look of panic on her face made Shelly squirm in her seat. “Police think she was trying to kidnap Sam.”

Winnie tried to sort through her questions before someone came in. Her head wasn’t right; she needed to remember this later. “Who sent the email?” Winnie asked.

Shelly shook her head, but for a moment Winnie saw doubt in her sister’s eyes. “I just know what Mike tells me.” Winnie didn’t particularly like her brother-in-law Mike Stallwart, but he didn’t know that. She’d asked him for a few favors over the years, and he’d been nice enough to never mention it to anyone in the family. This time it involved more than just Winnie so of course Mike was telling them everything.

Winnie ignored the question. “Was she married...? What about the husband?”

“She was. He told the police that she’d been depressed on and off since her daughter’s death and had even contacted a medium...” Shelly paused to let that sink in. “Her daughter was homeless, and last she heard from her she was in Seattle and pregnant in early 2007.”

Winnie nodded slowly but her hands were shaking even as they were locked in an embrace. “So why would she think Sam was her daughter’s kid? Sam was born in 2008.”

Shelly shrugged. “Terry obviously didn’t know that when she showed up.”

“So Samuel knows I’m his mom, right?”

“Of course,” Shelly said. “They’re saying it was a terrible coincidence that Terry came on the same night Dakota...” Winnie shook her head vigorously. She didn’t want to hear any more about Dakota.

“Anyway,” Shelly said quietly. “They’re investigating. I’m sure they’ll do what police do.”

Winnie didn’t want to know what that meant. Whoever that person was, they’d known enough to get Terry Russel involved. She shifted the subject to Manda, wanting to think more on that later. Shelly’s face soured at the mention of Dakota’s wife.

“She’s angry. She’s blaming us—all of us,” she added, glancing at Winnie. “She says he’s always been mentally ill and we knew it and enabled him.” Shelly spat this out with laughter in her voice, and Winnie felt herself get so hot under the thin hospital sheet she had to close her eyes to keep from yelling. “Dakota was normal until he met her. She’s the one who—”

“My God, stop it. I was there, Shelly. What Manda is saying is true. It may not be solely our fault, but we ignored what was right in front of our faces. I bought pot from him, for God’s sake.”

Shelly’s head jerked up at that. “Marijuana doesn’t make someone a murderer,” she said tightly.

“No, it doesn’t, but the fact that he hid everything from his wife and children, the fact that he shot Nigel and tried to kill me—I think that all points to the fucking fact that he was sick!”

“Stop,” she hissed, glancing around nervously. “They’ll find him. But when they do, your brother is going to prison for life. Do you understand that? Your twin brother, Winnie.”

All she could do was gape at her sister. Was Shelly asking her to feel bad for Dakota in this moment, excuse him?

“I understand that he deserves to go to prison for killing my husband.”

Her sister rose from her seat with the sort of lofty air Winnie had always respected, but now made her rageful.

“He’s family. Excuse me if I can’t hate my brother.”