So much. So fucking much, I shook with the effort to keep it from bulldozing me. “He’s dead,” was all I said, pushing memories of falling into his blood out of my mind. There was only so much of that night that I could let in at one time. I was beginning to wonder if avoiding telling Chris the whole story was protecting him or protecting myself.

“Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.” There was a pause. “So if she got away with him, she’s on her own now.”

I shook my head. “No. He wasn’t the one driving. He was already gone. He was . . . he was just helping Luna, so I guess that’s why the plate was his.”

I saw something in Chris’s eyes go soft—a glimmer of a memory, maybe? I hoped so; this would be a lot easier if things just came back to him and I didn’t continually have to worry about how much information to spoon-feed him.

He blinked a few times and went back to the screen. “Looks like the vehicle was abandoned about a month ago.”

“Where is it now?”

“Impound. The family never picked it up.”

Of course they hadn’t. That wasn’t Jones’s car. There were so many things they didn’t know. Jones’s death was a tragic accident, as far as they were concerned. They were quoted in the news saying as much. Wrong place at the wrong time. Got involved with a girl he shouldn’t have. They meant me; little did they know it was Luna who’d dragged him into the middle of everything. I’d been keeping him out. Now I wished I’d kept him close; maybe he wouldn’t have betrayed me so easily if I had.

Chris clicked around a little. “Cosigner on the loan is Bill Hollis. Why would Bill Hollis help Jones buy a new truck, and why would Jones keep that truck a secret?”

I thought about it. The answer was simple. Luna wanted Jones to do her dirty business for her. She wanted him to follow me, to steal and break my shit. But she wasn’t stupid. “If he’d been following me around in his car, I would have noticed. Can we go?” I asked.

“Go?”

I pointed to the screen. “Can we get it out of impound?”

“No. I’m not authorized to do that. And if I pull out my badge and start demanding things, I’m going to have to have a reason. Do I have a reason? Am I even still on this case?” He gestured to the papers on his desk. “It doesn’t look like I’m still on this case. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who is. I’m not technically—”