She’s smarter than you and me put together, Jimmy. “What’s done is done,” Keegan told her. He tried to smooth out his voice for her. “Don’t worry about it.” He sat down on the sofa but left a little space between him and the chair Eve sat in. He wasn’t sure why preserving that small distance seemed important right then. Certainly no one could see them.

Eve rubbed the back of her neck, head still bent low. She didn’t seem able to look at him. “Oh, God, what have we done?” she said.

We? Keegan thought.

“It’s a nightmare,” she said. “I just keep thinking—” She shook her head. Another entry in her growing catalogue of unfinished thoughts.

Keegan had never seen a woman so distraught, and he felt his irritation drain away. It was replaced with a surge of sympathy. This girl was so young and guileless, a novice swimmer dragged out of her depth by an unseen current. Despite what Moore kept saying, she clearly wasn’t cut out for the situation she found herself in.

“Look, we’re going to be okay,” he assured her. “I got rid of the gun. It’s the only thing that ties us to the—” He caught himself up, midsentence, unsure of the correct term to use. What was the proper word for this mess they were in? “Death,” he said—though his writer’s ear told him it didn’t ring true. Killing stayed closer to the plain facts of the case, but it was a word he wouldn’t allow himself to say aloud.

“What if they find it?”

“The gun?” He shook his head. “They won’t.”

“But where is it?” she said. She held up a hand between them and shook her head. “No, don’t tell me.” She knotted her fingers together in front of her and stared, pale-faced, into the middle distance. A pair of perfect tears dribbled down her cheeks, as if on cue. “Oh, God,” she said. “How did all this happen?”

Keegan slid off the sofa and kneeled in front of her, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Look, we’re going to be fine,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. But you’re going to have to hold yourself together. For me. For us. Just trust me.”

Eve nodded and drew a damp, ragged breath. She wiped her cheeks with the linen cuff of her blouse. “It’s just I’m afraid,” she said. “I think I was followed.”

Shit. “You mean just now?” He looked at the kitchen door.

“No. No,” she said. “Earlier. The funeral. There was a car behind us.” Her damp eyes wandered the dimly lit room.

Keegan spoke loudly to hold her attention. “Was it an Impala?” he said.

She looked at him and shook her head. “No,” she said. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“What color was it?”