“Trudy, this is not going to go well,” she whispered as they waited in chairs by a paper-strewn desk. “I buried him with the bricks, I sunk the boat, I—”

“It’s okay, Vi,” Trudy said.

“I don’t think it will be.” She let out a gasp of mirthless laughter, her heart beating in her throat. “There’s no way they’re going to believe me. It’s one thing to have killed a man, but quite another to have hidden his—”

“Okay, ladies,” Delaney said loudly, sitting down behind the desk and clicking his pen. “I’m ready when you are.” He tipped his head toward Violet. “Why don’t we start with you?”

“Just tell your truth,” Trudy whispered in her ear.

Violet took a shaky, bracing breath, then began. She told the entire story, everything she knew to be true. How she’d been tasked with taking care of her sister, but she’d been fooled right along with Trudy, thinking Jay was a kind man, a good man. How she’d watched bruises bloom on her sister’s lovely skin, watched Jay turn her into a fearful, nervous, jittery shell of herself. How Violet had gone to their house to do whatever was necessary to make Jay stop hurting her sister. Then she told them of the boat, the bricks, and the bubbles on the surface of the water.

When Violet finished, it was Trudy’s turn. She spoke in fits and starts, her voice quiet and raspy, occasionally barely more than a breath, but she didn’t stop. She told them of her life with Jay, his warm public charisma paired with his cold cruelty behind the doors of their home. Of how her strength and grit returned just in time to save her sister from a broken man intent on killing her. Probably killing both of them.

As they both spoke, the other officers in the room were rapt, their eyes trained on the two women, absorbing every word. No interruptions, no mocking glances, no casual brushing away of the truth.

“Is that everything?” Delaney scribbled down a couple more words, then glanced up at them. “Have you told us everything?”

Violet took Trudy’s hand again. “It’s the whole story. Our whole truth. I only ask that if you need to punish someone for this, I’m the one who takes the fall. It comes down to me.”

“No.” Trudy’s voice was firm, but she had to clear her throat before she could continue. “I didn’t tell the truth to cover it right back up again. I’m not proud of what I did, exactly, but I’m not sad about it either. Not then or now. The fall is mine to take.”

Delaney clicked his pen closed and set it carefully on top of his notebook. He sat back in his chair, the flimsy metal groaning in protest. “Our records show the police came to your house after Mr. Malone was discovered to be missing. They spoke to you, Violet, because your sister wasn’t talking. Why didn’t you come clean then? Why didn’t you tell them about his abuse and about your attempt to protect your sister? Why carry the secret all these years?”