“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Izzy slapped the table, loving the feeling of pieces slotting into place. “Jesus. It makes him look just bad enough, you know? The story? Oh, you punched the victim in the face the same day that the kid, quote, unquote, killed himself. Can’t believe you’re admitting that to the cops. It must make us believe you and everything else you’re about to say. But then he twists it to give us the perfect excuse of why he wasn’t at the lighthouse.”

Mia didn’t say anything; her neutral mask was in place.

“The only reason we know any of that is because of him, and he only told us it after the man who had done the ‘grounding’ was no longer around to call out his lies.” Izzy stood up herself, unable to keep still any longer.

“You’ve said it a million times,” Izzy continued. “Everyone here is lying. Why wouldn’t he? Don’t you think he was a little too upfront with his information today? Quite a different tone than he’s been taking with us.”

Izzy paused her pacing, but her mind was still stumbling forward, ever forward. “What if . . . ?”

When Izzy didn’t continue, Mia kicked out a foot, falling far short of actually tapping Izzy but getting the point across. “What if what?”

Izzy pinched the skin of her wrist, the flicker of pain not enough to silence the thought. “What if Monroe wasn’t even pregnant?”

Mia shifted back, an almost imperceptible jerk, but Izzy was watching her closely.

“Why would Cash tell us she was?”

Spinning away from Mia, Izzy stalked over to the small refrigerator and then toward the back door, then repeated the path as her mind shifted through possible scenarios, each more outlandish than the next.

Finally she stopped to find Mia, one lazy brow raised, leaning against the counter, still patient, just waiting as Izzy prowled around the room.

“I don’t know.”

Mia looked away, her delicate jaw in sharp profile, the dim natural light sliding over her pale skin, so that she looked like a painting—exhaustion, grief, resignation, all caught in a few brushstrokes. But then Mia rolled her shoulders, turning back to Izzy, and she was once again just Mia, a blank slate, all her sticky emotions sloughed off with that one careless move.

“All right,” Mia said. “It’s something to consider.”

Where that left them, Izzy didn’t know. She shook off the odd moment, then moved to wake the computer up from its doze so she could get into the second email from Theo.

At the top was a note.

Sorry, this one took me longer. It was more the reporter’s thoughts than the interview itself. Looks important, though. Good luck, bucko.

Looks important. The words had Izzy straightening out of her lazy slouch.

“What is it?” Mia asked, sharp and fast.