“His motive doesn’t matter if he said he did it,” she observed. “And there’s no way he’ll get off with manslaughter since he refused to admit this for four years. Plus whatever other charges the AG decides to bring. Jewett’s going away for the rest of his life, Mike.”

That was true, but it didn’t satisfy my curiosity.

“I hope one of those other charges will be setting those spikes in the road for me to run over.”

“He claims he was ordered to do it by Tempest Dow. Her plan was to delay you on the hill until dark so you wouldn’t see the spikes until it was too late. From what you’ve said, I’m surprised she considered drowning an acceptably gruesome death for you.”

“You didn’t have to fight your way out of that river.”

“True.”

“What about Arlo Burch? Are you going to arrest him for blackmail?”

“He doesn’t strike me as the brightest bulb,” said Finch, who’d grown tired of my grilling and was making a show of putting on his coat over his blazer. “I don’t think he ever really understood that he was involved in a criminal conspiracy.”

Pomerleau had practice ignoring her partner’s rude gestures. “The prosecutor has a busy day ahead. I don’t think Arlo is going anywhere, and I’d lay down money that he’ll come quietly when we put the cuffs on. He broke into tears when we gave him the news of his girlfriends’ deaths. He really seemed to care for those pieces of shit. He kind of reminds me of a lost puppy.”

“Ellen has a thing for the guy,” said her partner.

I remembered something Dani had told me about Finch: how he smirked through every state-mandated sexual harassment video.

Pomerleau acted as if she hadn’t heard him now. She hadn’t gotten where she was in the state police by rising to every bait dangled before her. Maybe Dani was right to jump ship.

“Any other questions for us?” she asked me.

“Yeah. The big one. How did you find us?”

“That woman you spoke with, Felice Bazinet—”

“That’s her maiden name.”

Ellen ignored my hair-splitting. “She called 9–1–1 when she saw the Dows hauling out the heavy weapons. I don’t think she wanted your murder on her conscience.”

“But how did she know where we were?”

“Her father. She called and got him to tell her. I think her alerting us was as much about saving her old man as about saving you.”

I pictured again the sad woman with the shaved head and the exotic eyes. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“That’s another conversation we’ll be having with the prosecutor,” said Finch curtly.

“And her dad, Vic?”