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I didn’t watch him walk away. I unlocked the Range Rover, got inside, and started the engine—and nearly jumped out of my skin as someone thumped on the driver’s side window. Hard.

Raleigh glared down at me.

I fumbled to find the button to lower the window.

As the window slid down, he said hotly, “You know, I wasn’t the only one.Everybodythought you were guilty—”

I said, matching his anger decibel for decibel, “You aren’teverybody, Raleigh. You knew me. You were my—” My voice gave a humiliating crack, but I got control. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

He was supposed to be a hell of a lot more than my friend.

“Jesus Christ. You were found in Peyton’s officeminutesafter he’d been killed—the same day the two of you had a huge blow-up.”

“Nofingerprints on the gun.Nogun residue on my hands.”

“There were no fingerprints on the gun at all, so that doesn’t help you. You weren’t tested for GSR until the next day. We both know you’re smart enough to wear gloves.”

I actually had to fight to get the breath to shout, “You sound like you still think I’m guilty! After everything that’s happened—”

Raleigh’s face flushed. “Of course I don’t!I’m trying to—the case was presented to the DA andhemade the call to bring charges. You know that.”

I said scornfully, “Oh, I see. You were just an innocent bystander.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying there was a pre-preponderance of evidence and the consensus was—”

“Consensus. Jesus,” I interrupted him again. “At least have the guts to own your part in it.”

“I do own it,” he snapped. “I own it and I’m sorry for my part in it. I said I was sorry.”

“Right. That’s what this is. Yourapology.”

He looked taken aback and then shocked. “Iamapologizing. I’m sorry. I wish to God none of it had happened.”

For a minute I couldn’t answer. The silence between us was so raw, so fraught, you could practically feel the atoms splitting.

I found my voice at last. “Are you going to arrest me if I don’t accept your apology? Or can I go?”

It was getting too dark to read his expression, but I could see the darkness of his eyes, his confusion—well, gosh, he so rarely heard the wordno. Not from me.

After a moment, he stepped back from my car, said thickly, “Of course, you can go.”

I didn’t take the time to roll up the window, I just hit the gas and drove.

Chapter Two

Malcolm was waiting for me when I got back to the Gingerbread House.

I can’t say I was thrilled. I’d been ready to call it a day even before running into Raleigh. Post-Raleigh, I was exhausted, wrung out, depressed. I wanted to go to bed, pull the covers over my head, and not come out until the spring. Assuming spring ever came.

But I liked Malcolm.

Well, okay, more honestly, I guess I didn’t think much about him one way or the other. He had never tried to be a father to me, thank God. In fact, he had never really even tried to be a big brother to me. I think I was as much on Malcolm’s radar as he was mine. Blank screens all around.

But he was kind and helpful and good natured when we did run into each other. He had been trying hard to do all the things since I’d arrived home the day before, though I’m sure he felt a little like he’d been asked to look after a space alien.

Anyway.

I remember Astrid telling me once that Malcolm was a good man, but that he wasn’t apassionateman. He didn’t get worked up about things. Good things. Bad things. Any things.