I couldn’t leave the Beetle in our driveway, or Trixie’s. I left it on Rustling Pine Lane, which was two streets over from Chancery, and hoofed it back, the ledger tucked under my arm. Even though our house appeared to be empty, I knew it was possible someone might be waiting inside, looking out the window, waiting for my return, so I got to Trixie’s place by working my way through backyards, then coming up the side of her house that was the furthest away from ours. It was, as it turned out, a good thing Sarah had been called in to The Metropolitan to work an overtime shift. She wasn’t going to be home until daybreak, and by then, I’d decided, I was going to go to the police with everything I knew. But before I did that, I wanted to be sure I had the deck well stacked against the friendly folks at Valley Forest Estates. And Roger Carpington, even though I was less than certain he’d killed Stefanie Knight. Not that the police wouldn’t be able to find plenty of other things to charge him with.

I came around Trixie’s garage, noticed her car and one other in the drive, and rang the front doorbell. I figured one simple ring wouldn’t be enough to wake her, so I leaned on the button, let it go for a full ten seconds before taking my finger off it.

The tiny speaker next to the door crackled almost right away. “Hello?” Trixie didn’t sound as tired as I thought she would.

“Trixie, it’s Zack. Let me in.”

“Zack? It’s one in the morning. What are you doing here?”

Down at the end of Chancery, a small car’s headlights appeared.

“Trixie, listen, I don’t have time to explain. Please let me in.”

“I’ll be over in a couple of minutes, I’m—”

“Trixie! I can’t go home! You have to let me in! It’s an emergency!”

“Hang on.”

The headlights were getting closer, slowing as they approached the corner of Greenway. I pressed myself up against the wall, sliding down and behind a bush.

From inside, I heard a bolt being turned, and then the door opened a crack. I was grateful that Trixie did not turn on the front light and expose me to whoever was coming up the street.

I forced the door open and burst in, closing the door behind me and throwing the bolt even before Trixie had a chance to do it.

“Oh God, thank you,” I said, turning to face her, holding the ledger out in front of me. “You’ve got no idea the mess I’ve gotten—”

And then I stopped.

Trixie had not come to the door in her pajamas. Clearly, I had not roused her from a deep sleep.