“We . . . we didn’t have a lot of money. We wanted a house for you, and it all went into that, so on our date nights we’d just go for walks. In the forest. Your father always liked the wilderness.” Not surprising, given his bloodline. “We’d walk and then . . . we’d take some time alone.” Uh-huh. Pretty sure I knew what that meant, but I sure as hell wasn’t asking for confirmation. “Afterward, we’d fall asleep for a couple of hours, with his watch alarm set. All I remember from those nights is that I slept very well. I presume there was something in the wine. We never discussed it.”

“But you went to jail. For something you didn’t do.”

Her eyes flashed. “For something I should have done. We should have done, together. The DNA evidence was mine, Eden. I’m presuming someone planted it there. Maybe the Cwn Annwn—I never trusted them. Or maybe one of their enemies. After that, how could I claim innocence without turning him in? Turning on him? As long as we both proclaimed our innocence, there was a chance we’d both be freed. I was willing to take that chance. I still am, and I always will be.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

You should celebrate,” Gabriel said as he pulled out of the prison parking lot.

“Um . . .”

“When we first met, you were trying to reconcile yourself to the fact that your parents were cold-blooded serial killers. You know now that they are not. Your father killed four people, all of whom, I suspect, deserved it, and he did it out of love for you. Your mother is completely innocent. That’s a long way to come, Olivia.” He looked at me. “It is.”

“I know, but . . .”

“Yes, perhaps ‘celebration’ is the wrong word. But you deserve an evening to appreciate what you’ve accomplished, and to relax. So that is what you’re going to do. I insist. We’re going to . . . not celebrate.”

I managed a laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “We’re taking the night off, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

“Yes, sir.”

His fingers tapped the wheel. There’d been an electricity in the car, an excitement after I’d explained. I could be brutally pragmatic and say Gabriel was happy at learning his client really was innocent. He was also happy that resolving this would free us to investigate James’s death and clear Gabriel’s own name. But I’d like to think he was also happy for me, for us, having gone through all this together and finally finding an answer, the second-best possible solution.

He’d made his offer of a celebration in a surge of ebullience. Now, when my reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped, that wave crashed and the energy seemed to suck back into him, like a black hole.

“That sounds good,” I said. “Really good.”