Fifteen minutes later, with that and more on my mind, Kane and I are on the road when I motion to a certain street and Kane knows exactly what I want. This is the path to my old house, the one I inherited from my mother that burned down several weeks back.

On the short drive, memories punch at me, so many memories, good and bad, and Kane is a part of most of them. No. Some of them. He pulls to a halt in what was my driveway and kills the engine. It’s a bright night, the moon high, the snowstorm long past.

For a moment, I just sit there in the car, we just sit there, until I reach for the door handle, and step outside. Kane joins me at the front of the car. We lean back on the hood, side by side, and stare at the rubble that is left of my house, the ocean wide and long just beyond. The beach where I was attacked and grabbed that knife, is between the two. For a long time, that night and that knife was between me and Kane.

The wind rushes over us and I snuggle deeper into my coat. “My mother came here to avoid my father,” I say. “She obviously knew what I’m only now finding out about him.” I glance at Kane. “She hated him. She wanted the divide. When I left New York to avoid you, it was because I knew I couldn’t stay away from you any other way. And I thought we were bad for each other.”

“But you did hate me.”

“I hated myself. My mom hated him,” I reiterate. “The night she died, she was with Lucas’s father. I need to know why.”

“I dug around,” he says, which doesn’t surprise me. “I didn’t find evidence of an affair. I didn’t even find evidence of them communicating often.”

“It seems like Pocher wanted them both dead.” I dive deeper into a hell hole when I say, “Or my father. Maybe it was my father. It felt like he knew about my attack.” I move on before he can reply. “Maybe she had something on him. Or Pocher. Or both. Maybe that’s why this house is rubble. That something was inside.”

“Unless it wasn’t,” Kane says. “Would she really have kept something that big here?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “but it was her private space. But then again, maybe it was with Lucas’s father. Or even a lockbox.” I step in front of him. “What do you know about Murphy? It’s time to tell me.”

“I agree,” he says.

I blink. “You agree?”