“Marvin’s the one who figured it out,” I said, referring to my father-in-law. Lena’s dad. “He’d been working with a P.I.”

Remy’s face was twisted now. She looked bewildered.

“Rem,” I continued, “Tarticoft wasn’t just our killer in the Fultz case. He took out my family.”

I explained to her that I’d found Kian Tarticoft’s business address, but the assassin had abandoned the place three days earlier.

“May eleventh,” I said. “I finally found out who drove my family off the road. Problem was—Tarticoft was one step ahead of us.”

“No.” Remy shook her head. “You found him. I shot him at the cabin.”

I stared at her. “You did,” I said. “But I had help finding him. Governor Monroe. He took some scrap of information I had about Tarticoft being a taxidermist. And a P.O. box number. He used his resources and got me the address of that cabin. That’s how I found the place.”

My partner stood up. “In exchange for what?”

“A favor,” I said. “Something in the future. His choice. Anything.”

“You gotta tell the chief,” Remy said immediately. “Monroe’s a snake, P.T. He could call you tomorrow. Ask you to hide evidence—cover up an investigation.”

“Rem,” I said. “I was up on the roof at the middle school. Ready with the Remington, and Monroe called me.”

“No,” she said. Shaking her head vehemently. “No, no. Don’t tell me the governor ordered that shot.”

11

An icy breeze moved over the porch, and Remy muttered to herself, her head shaking.

Maiden grass and yellow tickseed grew wild near the edge of the porch, and my partner had turned away from me. I heard her nervously pull at the leaves of the plants, still processing what I’d told her about the governor’s call.

“It was a good kill, though,” she said, turning. “Harrington was a murderer. He’d already shot Leaf Tanner.”

I nodded, knowing this was true.

“It was,” I said. “The art teacher verified the events and the order, including Harrington turning with his .38 toward the kids.”

Remy was pacing. Her head bobbing in agreement. But her mind was elsewhere. Racing back and forth in time.

“Jesus,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“Fuller from I.A.D. was there.”

“No, back in May,” she clarified. “Why didn’t you tell me about Tarticoft and your family?”

I thought of the moment I’d found out the truth about the assassin. It was a scorching-hot day, and I’d pulled out of that junkyard.

I’d vomited a mix of vodka and quail eggs at the roadside, finding out the truth about my family. Then I made one call.

“You were the one person I did call,” I said. “But you wouldn’t listen. I’d screwed up in other areas. So you just kept telling me you were coming to get my badge and gun.”

Remy lowered her eyes, remembering the moment. And now she was embarrassed.

“P.T.,” she said. “The governor calling yesterday . . . did you take the shot because he told you?”