Page 85 of Darkwater Lane

He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Kez was the one to figure it out. She called the police departments involved with the Sicko Patrol murders and asked if they’d found a bone at the crime scene. As soon as she confirmed the links between the victims, she knew it was only a matter of time before the FBI made the same connection. Once they did, suspicion would naturally fall on us. I knew we’d have to clear our names fast because, once authorities get a suspect, they stop looking for others and only look for evidence to prove their theory right.”

“Confirmation bias,” Sam says.

I nod. “My alibis were easy. Yours…weren’t.”

“How so?” He seems genuinely curious, as if he isn’t already aware what the answer is. Which is a point in favor of his innocence.

“You were out of town for every murder,” I tell him carefully, eyeing his reaction.

He frowns. “So? I’m a pilot. When I’m on the schedule, I’m out of town half the days of the week, if not more.”

I look out toward the lake again. The night is still, and the surface is flat, a reflection of the dark sky above. It’s almost dizzying, like standing on the edge of an abyss. One step and I’d fall into emptiness.

I want to believe he isn’t that good of an actor, but I can’t. I know from experience how convincing he can be. When we first met, he convinced me he was a normal guy, a bachelor writer living next door, whose only interest in me was earning a few bucks by fixing my roof.

I bought into his story completely.

So, what I’d really like to believe—what Ineedto believe—is that he wouldn’t pull an act around me again.

“All of your destinations matched up with the murders,” I tell him. “According to your flight schedule, you were within an hour’s drive of every single one.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” I’m still staring at the water, wondering how many secrets it holds. How many conversations has it been privy to?

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t come to me when you learned about all of this.”

I don’t have a good answer.

He turns to face me. “Unless you think I had something to do with it?”

My response is immediate. “Of course I don’t.”

He senses my hesitation. “But?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Leo? We said no more secrets.” My voice has risen and is edged with pain and accusation.

“You’ve kept secrets too, Gwen,” he says softly.

“Not like that,” I argue.

“Why are you really upset? Is it because I didn’t tell you I was going to meet Leo? Or because you think I killed him.”

I wrap my arms around my middle. “I think you would have killed him if given the chance,” I admit. “But I don’t think you’re the one who murdered him. You’d never be that cruel. And you’d never do it in our house. Especially with all that blood. You know firsthand what a bitch that would be to clean.”

As I’d hoped, a smile twitches the corner of his mouth.

It fades the moment I say, “Someone burned down our rental house in Knoxville.”

He staggers back a step. “What? When? And you’re just mentioning this now?”

“They found Melvin’s body in the wreckage. The rest of his skeleton.”

He runs his hand through his hair, taking that in. “He always did want to be cremated,” he notes.

I snicker. “Unfortunately for him, the fire didn’t burn hot enough for that. He’s still just a pile of bones. Next time, I plan to bury him in an unmarked grave. No anonymous number, nothing. Or maybe we should take a cruise, and I’ll dump his remains overboard. I going to make damn sure no one ever finds him again.”