“Are you really writing a book?” D.D. pressed.

“Yeah!”

“But you don’t have letters. We know that, Charlie. Because Shana wasn’t into your cousin. She was into you.” D.D. had been contemplating the theory ever since leaving the foster mom’s house. No way a girl with Shana’s reputation would be attracted to a geeky twelve-year-old. But Charlie, leader of the local pack, with his firefighting father and cop uncle . . .

Charlie stared at them. Then his face melted. His body sagged, and for a moment, she thought he might collapse from the weight of the guilt he’d been carrying on his shoulders.

“I liked her. So help me God, I knew she was trouble. But I was fourteen and stupid and trouble sounded good.”

“Were you two dating?”

He grimaced. “These days, I think the proper term would be fuck buddies. We got together. You know, when the mood struck.”

“Are there letters? Ones she wrote to you.”

“No. I lied.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, glanced at Adeline. “I was just trying to get your attention. I mean, seriously. After everything my family’s been through, first your sister, then you, blow me off. Is wanting to know the truth about what happened to my cousin really asking too much?”

His voice picked up again, his rage straightening his frame, lending him strength.

“Donnie was your go-between,” Adeline said, her gaze boring into Charlie’s. “That’s the truth, isn’t it Charlie? You used your younger cousin to relay messages to Shana. Where and when to meet. That way, you wouldn’t be seen with her—the crazy girl—too often.”

D.D. thought he might deny it, then Charlie muttered hoarsely: “Yes.”

“What happened that night?” D.D. asked, though at this stage, she figured she knew.

“Shana was becoming more . . . freakish. I mean, in the beginning, I’d never met a girl so frank about sex. When she wanted it, she wanted it. No apologies, no pretenses. Hell, she started the whole thing by turning to me one day and asking me if I wanted to fuck. So we did.

“But then I heard about Mrs. Davies, her foster mom, catching her with Samuel, not once, but twice, and that started to creep me out a bit. How many boys in the neighborhood was she screwing? Not like she’d say. So I decided it was time to cool things off. We were supposed to meet that evening. Five o’clock, at the lilac bushes. Maybe hang out, grab a pizza.

“I asked Donnie to meet her instead.” Charlie paused. His voice had grown thick. He swallowed, continued. “I asked Donnie to, um, break things off.”

“You sent your twelve-year-old cousin to break up with your fuck buddy?” D.D. asked, voice incredulous.

Charlie Sgarzi gazed down at the dark pavement. “Yes.”

“And then?”