“Hi, honey. . . Your mom is right. You need to stay at school.” He paused, listening. “I’m fine. It’s all just a . . . well, ‘misunderstanding’ is probably the wrong word.” He sighed. “It’s gone beyond that at this point. But my attorney assures me that there isn’t enough evidence for the State to try me, much less convict me.” He waited again, this time for longer. “I wish I knew what happened, sweetheart. Believe me. I’d give anything to go back to that night, and to have been awake when Hannah left the campsite. If I had, maybe she would have been safe. Maybe I could have stopped whatever happened to her.”

I turned away then. I knew what James meant, or at least, I knew what he was trying to convey to Paige. That he wasn’t guilty. That he wasn’t the sort of man who would hurt an innocent woman, and he never was. That he was still the adoring father Paige had always known.

But all I could think of was his words, which were now running like ticker tape through my thoughts. I’d give anything to go back to that night, and to have been awake when Hannah left the campsite. What did he include in that anything? His life with me? Our daughter?

I decided it was probably better not to ask questions I didn’t want answered.

Chapter Fifteen

James was not rearrested that night, nor the next day, nor the day after that. Still, when Monday rolled around, he didn’t go into work, and neither one of us had left the house in days, partly because there were reporters staking out our place. They shouted out questions whenever James stepped out, even if it was just for Stella’s bathroom breaks. We had our food delivered and screened all of our phone calls, picking up only for Paige, Natalie, or close family members. I wondered how long we could carry on like this.

On Tuesday, Natalie stopped by the house to meet with James. I offered to leave them alone, so they could speak in private.

“No, stay,” James said.

“It’s fine,” Natalie assured me.

I made coffee and brought it into the living room on a tray, along with mugs, cream, sugar, and a plate of homemade chocolate-chip cookies I’d found in the freezer, probably left over from when Paige and her friends were on one of their frequent baking binges. Natalie accepted the coffee with a kind smile.