“Come on in, Travis.” I stepped to the side, letting him pass, as I tried to keep the heavy guilt I felt from weighing down my Oscar-worthy smile. “How was your night? I don’t need details. I’m just being polite.”

Travis chuckled and then noticed the folded sheets, blanket, and pillow on the couch. “Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Better than your night, brother. Should I, uh…should I come back? The front desk left me a note, saying you needed me to come here at six.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Have a seat, Trav.”

Travis walked over to the couch and sat down, looking up at us with wary eyes. “What’s going on?”

I sat down on the corner of the bed, keeping my shoulders relaxed and trying to seem generally nonthreatening. “Travis, we need to talk to you about your involvement in the March nineteenth ESU fire.”

Travis furrowed his brow, and then he laughed once without humor. “What?”

I continued, “The FBI has been investigating the case, and Thomas has been able to strike a deal in your favor.”

Travis clasped his hands together. “The FBI? But he’s an ad exec.” He gestured to his brother. “Tell her, Tommy.” When Thomas didn’t respond, Travis’s eyes narrowed. “What is this?”

Thomas looked down and then back at his brother. “I’m not in advertising, Trav. I’m a Special Agent of the FBI.”

Travis stared at his brother for a full ten seconds and then cackled. “Oh my God, dude! You were beginning to freak me out. Don’t do that to me! What do you really need to talk to me about?” His laughter faded when Thomas didn’t crack a smile. “Tommy, knock it off.”

Thomas shifted. “I’ve been working with my boss for a year now, Travis, trying to negotiate a deal for you. They know you were in Eakins. Abby’s plan didn’t work.”

Travis shook his head. “What plan?”

“For the wedding in Vegas to provide you with an alibi to keep you out of prison,” Thomas said, trying to keep his expression relaxed.

“Abby married me to keep me out of prison?”

Thomas’s eyes fell, but he nodded. “She doesn’t want you to know.”

Travis jumped up, grabbed Thomas’s shirt, and shoved him all the way to the other side of the room against the wall. I stood, but Thomas held out his hand, warning me away.

“C’mon, Travis, you’re not stupid. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know,” Thomas grunted.

“Take it back,” Travis seethed. “Take back what you said about my wife.”

“She was nineteen, Travis. She didn’t want to get married until you were at risk for going to prison for organizing the fight.”