Rose showed up shortly after Ricky left, likely after a call from him. She brought tea and cookies. We talked. I sent her home when the clock ticked near eleven.

Once Rose left, the night shift desk clerk came in to inform me that I absolutely could not stay. I pointed out that the station was open all night. If they wanted to make an issue of it, they could toss me in an empty cell on charges of being a pain in the ass. The clerk shook his head and left me alone.

At 11:45, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and held off answering until it was just about to switch to voice mail. Then I picked up.

“Olivia, you are not spending the night in the police station waiting room.” It was Gabriel. “Ricky has my apartment keys. You can both stay there for the night. Arm the alarm and lock the doors. I’m not convinced his apartment is secure. My arraignment is at nine tomorrow—”

“I thought it was noon.”

“They moved it up, which may have something to do with you being camped out in their waiting room. I appreciate that, but you should go now. There’s no way we can meet before the arraignment.”

“Pamela,” I blurted. “When I was there yesterday morning, she said she knew you’d killed James. Someone had told her—one of the Cwn Annwn, I think.”

“Whatever Pamela said, I did not—”

“I know. But that’s why I froze up when they arrested you. Because I hadn’t warned you about what she’d said.”

“Ah.”

“I know you don’t have much time, so if you have anything important you need to say, cut me off, but I want to say that I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give it any credence. If I’d thought, for one second, that you might actually be arrested—”

“It’s all right. It helps to know where to begin looking for answers. The only important thing I have to say is ‘go home.’”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Of course.” He sounded mildly offended that I’d ask. But I wasn’t really asking. I was diverting him from realizing that I hadn’t agreed to leave. He fell for it, and went on to tell me to bring him fresh clothing, along with a comb and a razor.

Ricky arrived a few minutes after we hung up. He brought a pillow, blanket, and hot chocolate.

“You don’t have to stay,” I said as he settled in, pulling the blanket over our legs.

“It’s like a sit-in,” he said. “I missed all that fun in my undergrad years. Not really my scene. But a protest against trumped-up criminal charges? I can get behind that. Now drink your cocoa. It’s like a mocha with less caffeine.”

“You could have gotten a decaf.”