“Sorry, Mia, an emergency cropped up at the Rogerses’ place.” Cash had put on his best distressed face, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes when he said it. “There’s a shotgun involved. I gotta get over there.”

Mia stood. “Do you need backup?”

“No, no.” He waved with the hand he wasn’t using to yank open the outer door. “It’s just old Stan again. You know him. Probably forgot to take his meds. But I should . . .”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before he was out the door. They were left staring at his back as he jogged across the empty court, only stopping to kick a stray basketball out of the way.

Mia watched him until he’d disappeared, and stood there long after.

Behind Mia, Dot and Izzy continued talking, a few stray bits working their way into Mia’s conscious, like that Dot had married the owner of the hardware store and had three kids, all boys. But most of it was smothered by the one question that kept getting louder every time she saw Cash—What wasn’t he telling her?

She turned around, suddenly enough that the conversation behind her dropped off midsentence. “What were you going to say about Earl?” There was no grace to the question, none of her legendary interview skills on display. Her hand shook slightly, and she shoved it in the pocket of the jacket she’d never taken off.

“Oh.” Dot looked between them. But Izzy’s easy presence had done its job to thaw some of the iciness. “He was diagnosed with dementia a few years back. It’s pretty bad.”

It came like a blow, even more so than his death would have.

Poor Cash.

She didn’t want to think it but couldn’t help the fleeting sympathy. Dementia wasn’t pretty, and to watch Earl Bishop deteriorate must have been rough for Cash, who had idolized him always.

Mia found Izzy watching her when she opened her eyes, and she realized what it could mean for the case.

Patients with dementia tended to live a lot in the past. Short-term memory was often interrupted, but the long-term—that was just there to pull from.

Which meant there was a possibility that the reporter might have talked to an Earl Bishop who thought he was living in the time period right after Asher’s and Monroe’s deaths.

And maybe, if that was the case, they were dealing with the fallout from that.

Izzy tilted her head toward the door, a clear question if Mia was ready or if she wanted to stick around. Mia nodded once, but as they both moved to make their goodbyes to Dot, Mia paused.