“You’d hate him if it were you. Go home, Shelly. I want to be alone.”

“You’ve always been the biggest hypocrite in the family,” she said, moving toward the door. “Sam told us that Nigel hid liquor bottles from you. So I wouldn’t be so quick to point fingers.”

Winnie blinked at her sister with something like revulsion on her face. Was she really comparing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s to murder? Winnie wouldn’t even dignify that with a response. Shelly went for one more blow before she left. “Mom is brokenhearted. First her husband dies, and now her son is gone.”

* * *

Winnie was released from the hospital three days later. Nigel’s mother, Nancy, picked her and Sam up and took them to her town house, where they would stay until they found something else. Sam—he’d firmly asked to be called Sam—was glued to her side. Nigel’s mother already had him in therapy, and Winnie was glad of it. She wasn’t sure how to make decisions for them yet, so they burrowed down in her mother-in-law’s spare room for the time being. Detective Abbot came by every week to check on them and update her on the case. It had been six weeks, and they still hadn’t found Dakota. He’d left his truck a few blocks away, parked on the street and unlocked, his wallet inside the glove box. Winnie, who’d always felt connected to her twin, felt nothing at all. If he was out there, what he’d done had severed any tie they had. As for Josalyn, they’d made the connection eventually and Detective Abbot had come to talk to Winnie at her mother-in-law’s town house.

“Josalyn was your patient, so we believe Terry Russel chose to take the death of her daughter out on you. It happened very quickly on her end. She received the email and had booked a flight to Washington within an hour.”

“Who sent the email? Could it have been Dakota?” But Winnie knew the answer before it was given. Dakota wasn’t calculated enough to pull off some grand scheme; he was all impulse and anger. And besides—how could he have known about Josalyn? And when Terry had told him her story in the back rooms of the house, it was clear he was hearing it for the first time.

“Did you know that Dakota and Nigel had words the night before he came to your house with the gun?”

Winnie shook her head. She wished she could fast-forward through this part; he was going to say things to make her hate both her husband and her brother.

“Your cousin, Amber, she told Dakota that Nigel was cheating on you. Do you remember having that conversation with her?”

Winnie nodded. “Yes, but Amber didn’t tell me she’d told Dakota.”

“Your brother threatened Nigel in the parking lot of his work. They shoved each other around before the security guard broke it up.”

“That’s absurd. He would have told me if that happened.”

“Are you sure...?”

She didn’t like the look on his face.

“Okay...” Winnie said cautiously. “What are you saying? That Dakota came to my house and killed my husband because he was cheating on me? Then why did he tie me up and almost shoot me, too?”

“We think that when you didn’t appreciate what he was doing for you—”

“Come on!”

Detective Abbot held up his hand. “Give me a minute. To Dakota, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know about his scuffle with Nigel. He was the brave and chivalrous brother and you were ungrateful.”

“No. I don’t believe that.” She looked out the window to where a seagull sat briefly on the railing outside before flying away.

“Did you know that your brother had schizophrenic episodes?”

“No! Well, I didn’t want to believe it.” Winnie was horrified. Manda had been telling the truth. She’d known there was something bigger going on with Dakota, but none of the family had bothered to listen. The detective pulled a sheet of paper from a cream folder he was holding. “Dakota held a piece of broken glass to a guy’s neck at a football game, saying the guy had messed around with his girlfriend.”

“Listen, Detective, that was years ago. But I know my brother is sick. I’m not arguing with you. I just want to know that my son is safe and that Dakota is not going to come after us.”

“We’re actively working to find him. But we’re still working on two separate cases here. You know that the emails Terry Russel received were sent from an IP address in your home, and we have the phone records saying calls were placed to her home from your house line.”

“Detective Abbot, with all due respect, I am done talking about Nigel being involved in sending that woman to my house. My husband is dead and can’t answer for himself.”

A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes, Winnie noticed. Could he hear her heart?

“I have one more thing, Mrs. Crouch, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She highly doubted that, but she tried to arrange her face into something pleasant as she waited for him to speak. “The third set of footprints in the blood we found around Nigel—”

“Oh, this again? Are you serious right now? I was there, the whole time. There was no one else. You made out one tiny footprint in the corner of the room and now you think my psychotic brother had a child accomplice?”

“You weren’t conscious the whole time, though, were you?” He touched his fingertip to the center of his forehead as if he were pressing a button. Winnie sat as still as she could so nothing would betray the noise inside her own head.

“All right...all right,” he said, but his eyes continued to evaluate her. “Well, you know the drill.”

“I know it well. If I think of anything else, I’ll call you. You remember where the door is, I assume.”

Winnie made herself a cup of tea after the detective left and sat in the recliner by the window so she could see the water. Sam was at school; Nancy had gone back to work a few days ago. Winnie got it: busy was the easiest way to be right now. They’d given Winnie extended leave at work, which sometimes proved to be a bad thing, like today. She had too much time to think, and Abbot’s visit had unsettled her. She was trying to cope with her own grief while steering Sam through his, analyzing every moment of that night had nearly driven her mad the first weeks. And now it felt like a luxury with everything she had going on.

She thought again about the tiny footprint. She had heard another voice in the house, a female voice, or so she thought. But things had been confusing, and the memory of her brother chasing after someone was punctuated by Winnie floating in and out of consciousness. She’d entertained the crazy idea that it had been Josalyn’s ghost come to help her, but even in death, Josalyn would never help Winnie after what she’d done. Winnie put the voice to rest because it seemed like the only thing she could do.