In the past, when I’ve wanted something from Pamela—which is, admittedly, every time I’ve visited—I’ve gotten straight down to business. Stick before carrot. Be straight with me and then we can be mother and daughter for a while. Now I reversed the process. I talked about my life. I had a new job as a research assistant. A crappy but comfortable apartment. A cat. And a boyfriend. I was most honest about Ricky, because that’s where I could light up, let her see how happy I was, and even if “biker MBA student” wasn’t her idea of son-in-law material, she focused on the student part of that, proof that the biker half was a young man trapped in his family business, working his way out.

In my openness, I manipulated her. I accept responsibility for that.

“I know about the spina bifida,” I said finally.

She jerked back as if I’d slapped her, and I wish I could say I felt guilty. But I only leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “I know about the deal with the Cwn Annwn, and if you deny it, I’m going to walk out.”

She went very still.

“I need to ask something I don’t know. Something I only suspect. Please listen until I’m done, okay? I know this isn’t easy for you.” I locked gazes with her. “But it’s not easy for me, either.”

She pressed her lips together, as if to ensure she wouldn’t interrupt.

“I think you didn’t kill Amanda Mays and Ken Perkins. I think it was the Tysons. The Cwn Annwn needed lives as part of the deal they offered you. They chose the Tysons. They also chose Stacey Pasolini and Eddie Hilton—I don’t know why, but I’m presuming it was a similar reason. The Cwn Annwn could justify their deaths, and so you could justify their deaths. Am I correct in those assumptions?”

She said nothing. I inched forward, close enough to earn the attention of a guard before I eased back.

“I know you aren’t innocent. The fact I’m not in a wheelchair proves that. So either you stopped killers, or you murdered innocents. Which would you have me believe?”

I could see the struggle in her eyes, the muscles in her cheeks twitching. I pushed my chair back.

“Then I’ll speak to my father.”

She shot up so fast I jumped. So did the guard. Pamela froze. Then she sank back into her chair. After a deep breath, she reached out, her hand going over mine.

“Have you seen him?” she asked.