“You’re not getting out of this, Robert,” Lucy pushed. “Would you like to see the warrant? Because it’s very clear that we can search your entire car, and if I find one drop of blood I will get an expanded warrant for your house, your property, your work, and all your financial records.” She stressed financial because of what Clemson told Sean at the bar the other night.

His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed.

Lucy took another photo out of her folder but didn’t show him yet. “I want to make something clear to you. We are your best hope at staying alive. Because you know what happens when you disobey orders? The people you’re playing footsie with are dangerous.” She slapped down the photo of Stanley Grant at the courthouse. He died at the hospital, but one of the cops had been smart and took a couple of pictures at the scene before he was transported.

Lucy then slapped down a photo of the mass grave where the Albrights were buried.

“Talk, we’ll protect you. Remain silent, you’re on your own. One drop of blood, and I’ll have your arrested for murder.”

“Murder! But you said accessory—”

Finally, he speaks.

“Victoria’s blood in your car and you say you didn’t pick anyone up at the house? That tells me her blood is there because you killed her.”

“Stop. Stop. Let me think.”

“There’s one right answer, Mr. Clemson. That right answer is telling me the truth.”

He looked toward Nate as if appealing to him, then quickly looked away.

Nate said, “Kincaid, Ash’s crime scene unit is leaving the lab now. ETA ten minutes.”

“I didn’t kill her. I didn’t even know the woman was dead!”

“But you picked up someone at the house.”

“I-I—”

“The same person you let use your property to access the house. There is no fence, only natural barriers, along the property line. Easy enough to walk between two trees and end up in the backyard. Waiting for Victoria to come out. Or calling her and asking her to come out. But the killer didn’t leave the same way. Maybe because if the blood trail went to your house, you would be questioned and the killer knew you were a weak link.” Lucy slapped her hands on the photos she’d put in front of him. “This is what happens to weak links.”

“I didn’t know,” he said. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. She came to my house at ten that night and said she had a problem to take care of, and to pick her up at ten thirty. I did. I didn’t see any blood. I didn’t see anything. I took her home.”

Her.

“How did she get to your house?”