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“A very nice man whom Emmy left because she couldn’t handle Gerald dying of cancer and Myrna slipping away at the same time.” Celia clasped together her hands on the table. “Tommy did his part. I tried to do mine. The old biddy’s forgotten everything but for the fact that she hates me.”

Jude said, “I told myself there might be some kind of resolution.”

“Gerald wasn’t the only reason you stayed away.”

“No, he wasn’t.” Jude picked at the frayed place mat. The melancholy threatened to return, and with it the grief of all that had been lost. “The last thing I said to him was that I hated him.”

Celia’s eyebrows went up.

“I didn’t say it. I screamed it,” Jude admitted. “I told both of them that I wouldn’t step foot back in Clifton until they were dead.”

“Well,” Celia said. “Gerald left Myrna out of that part of the story, but that’s pretty much what he told Tommy and Emmy.”

Jude knew that her father didn’t make those sorts of mistakes. He’d been trying to protect Myrna. “What explanation did he give for my fake death?”

“The car accident that almost killed Bubba Rawley. Gerald needed you gone so he didn’t have to arrest you. Millie wanted to file charges for you stealing her cars. He told people you were dead, and they believed him.”

Jude nodded, but only because it was a good story. “What’s old Bubba up to?”

“He’s a grandfather now. His kids are worthless shits, just like he was. And Bubba’s still an asshole. He seems to have forgotten that he was high on coke when the cars crashed. Good thing, too. He probably wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

Jude didn’t want to talk about the car accident, either. “I’m glad you ended up with Tommy. You always had a crush on him.”

Celia paused before answering, as if to make it clear she knew what Jude was doing. “Who did you end up with?”

“An AUSA who thought we wanted the same things.” Jude shrugged. “We didn’t. He was a good guy, though. He’s got a wife and three kids now.”

“No kids for you?”

“No kids for me.”

Celia let out a long sigh. “What’d you do when you left, drive until you hit the Pacific, then set down roots?”

“I toured around the country in the back of a Volkswagen bus fronting a band called the Radical Fiends.” Jude laughed along with Celia because it was one of the stupidest, most laughable things a girl could do when she left a small town.

“I dated the bass player, then the drummer, then they kicked me out for cheating with the keyboardist, then I decided I was sick of it and went to night school, then grad school, then I got offered a job on the tenure track, then I gave it up and joined the FBI.”

“And stopped drinking along the way.” Celia paused, but Jude didn’t fill in the blanks. “You got your doctorate. Myrna would’ve been proud.”

“Maybe.” Jude wasn’t sure. “How do I get back on Tommy’s good side?”

“He’s not that complicated. He loves his family. If you get right with Emmy, you’ll be right with Tommy.”

“Easy peasy,” Jude joked.

They both turned at the sound of another creak at the top of the stairs. Cole was in a pair of white boxer shorts. His muscles were sculpted like marble. He had a tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his left hip.

He looked at Jude. “Did they find Paisley?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Celia started puttering around the kitchen getting coffee and another plate. “Why are you up, honey? You’ve got another hour to sleep.”

Cole slumped into the chair. “I keep wondering about Paisley. Do you really think she’s dead?”

The question had been directed at Jude. She wasn’t going to soft-pedal the answer. “If you look at the statistics, it’s highly unlikely she’s still alive.”

He said, “Madison was kept alive for at least twelve hours.”

Jude didn’t point out that they were well past that mark. “I think it’s always good in these cases to be pragmatic. Hope can be a terrible thing. It wears on you.”

“Here you go.” Celia kissed the top of Cole’s head as she placed breakfast in front of him. “You need to eat.”

Cole asked Jude, “So we’re just gonna go through the case again?”

“Yes, but I want to talk to Adam Huntsinger first.”

Celia stiffened but kept silent.

Cole had picked up on the change. He gave Jude a careful look. “What does Mom think about that?”

“I drove here to ask, but she’s not home, and if she’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her up. Can you call that deputy who’s supposed to be watching him?”

“His name is Brett Temple, but Adam’s probably at Jonah’s bar waiting for the beer truck.” Cole shoved a biscuit into his mouth. Jude endured a lot of chewing before he continued. “Jonah hired him to piss off Mom.”

Jude could tell by Celia’s posture that Jonah had pissed off more people than Emmy. She told Cole, “It’s nine in the morning. Do they serve breakfast?”

“Lunch,” he said. “The beer delivery comes at nine thirty, and there’s no way Jonah’s getting up early unless he has to.”

“Get dressed,” Jude told him. “You can give me a ride. Call Brett to make sure Adam’s at the bar.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cole crammed the other biscuit into his mouth before disappearing up the stairs.

Jude told Celia, “He’s a good kid.”

“Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s perfect.” Celia sat back down at the table. Clasped together her hands. “Jonah bought the Hang Out from your uncle Penley with the money he got from Emmy after the divorce.”

Jude felt a wave of nausea at the mention of the sleazy dive.

Her brain summoned the layout from memory.

Sticky floors, loud video games, pool tables in the back, toilets to the left of the small stage and dance floor.

She used to sneak out with Henry. The drinks were strong, and nobody cared if you were underage, especially when your father was the sheriff and your uncle owned the place.

“Hey,” Celia said. “Everything okay?”

Jude nodded. “It’s hard to believe Penley sold the bar. He loved that place.”

“He loves Emmy more, and trust me, any one of us would’ve donated a kidney to get Jonah to leave Emmy alone.” Celia gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders. “You both have similar tastes. Jonah’s a failed musician.”

Jude didn’t laugh. “So was Charles Manson.”

Celia didn’t laugh, either. “Are you sure you want to see Adam again?”

“No.” Jude didn’t press her on the subject of Emmy and Jonah. She opened her purse, started laying out her make-up. Lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara. She propped up her compact against the salt and pepper shakers. “Are the matches still by the stove?”

Celia reached over to open the drawer, found a lighter and tossed it onto the table. “What are you up to?”

“I need Adam to think I turned out exactly how he thought I would.” Jude liberally powdered her face, trying to ignore the way it brought out the creases around her mouth and eyes. “Tell me about him.”

“Worthless cocksucker. Sold pot to children. Stole money from his parents. His mother’s eyesight is gone. Walton had to mortgage the house to try to keep him off death row.” Celia’s face looked grim. “You know about the podcast?”

“ Misguided Angel .” Jude clicked the lighter and held the eyeliner pencil over the flame so the wax would melt. “What a crock of shit. That Jack Whitlock clearly had a hard-on for Emmy. Made her seem like a tragic, overly emotional Keystone Kop.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Again, Celia didn’t share the details. “How are you going to get that eyeliner right without reading glasses? There’s no way you’re not as blind as I am.”

“Shut up and help me.” Jude handed over the pencil, looked up at the ceiling. “What do you think, Ceals? Was it Adam? Did Gerald get it wrong?”

“Let me concentrate.” Celia went silent as she traced the melted pencil under Jude’s eyes.

They could’ve been back in high school. The only thing missing was a David Bowie record playing on the stereo.

“After you left, Adam got worse. Raising hell all over the place. In and out of jail. He still sold weed, but he did odd jobs on the side, lived with his parents most of the time.”

“Gerald didn’t know Millie hired a con to work on her property?”

“Millie didn’t know. She found Adam’s number on the bulletin board at the senior center. Paid him cash, didn’t ask questions.” Celia shrugged. “Not that it matters. Millie wasn’t talking to Gerald when the girls went missing.”

Jude had been well-versed in the generation-spanning family feuds. “What a surprise.”

“Well, I wasn’t talking to Myrna, so I can’t say anything,” Celia admitted. “I was rawdogging menopause. Bless Tommy’s heart for sticking it out.”

Jude’s ex hadn’t been as resilient. “They should call it fuckapause, because you run out of all the fucks you can give.”

Celia’s quick laugh hadn’t changed since they were sneaking sips of MD 20/20 behind the Chilly Treat. “You’re the FBI expert, Dr. Archer. What do you think? Is Adam guilty?”

“I think I need to be careful about opening up a can of worms.” Jude studied her reflection.

The eyeliner was too sharp. She used her thumb to smudge it, judging the effect in the small mirror.

Then she put on more eyeshadow than she’d used in the last forty years.

“Christ, I can’t believe I used to do this every day. ”

“I bet there’s a safety pin in here somewhere.” Celia leaned over to look in the drawer again. She passed Jude a sewing kit. “I wish you’d known the better versions of Myrna and Gerald. Tommy says they changed because of Emmy, but I think they had to get over losing Henry.”

“They needed me gone so they could let go.” Jude tried to keep the bitterness at bay. “You were here for those six days when they couldn’t find his body. The way Myrna tore into me. Gerald wouldn’t even look me in the face. I was only sixteen years old. I lost my brother, too.”