Jane reaches to the bedside table. I keep a hand on her belly as she stretches just to feel her move. The switch clicks. The room falls into darkness. Then she returns my arms, burrowing down into the bed, under the covers.

“So.” Her voice is sweet. I know what she’s going to ask me about. I wish this was over, so she didn’t have to ask me about it ever again. “What happened?”

“A lot of calls and texts.”

“Who’d you call?”

“Everyone. The cops. The prosecutor. The FBI. Every contact I had in my phone.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Frustration wells. “They can’t link it to him.”

“It is linked to him, though. There was a note that said his name.”

“Anyone could have written that note.” I run my fingers through her hair. I don’t know how she gets it to be so silky all the damn time.

Jane sighs. “That’s what Emily was afraid of. She said he would have plausible deniability.”

“She was right.”

“I hate that for her.” Jane shifts against me, resting her head against my chest. “I was hoping she’d be wrong.”

“We were all hoping she’d be wrong.” I let myself hope for that, too. Some easy, simple link between Joe and the carving.

“It’s just so much.” I can feel Jane’s sympathy in every word. Her empathy. “Emily knew what she was risking to come back here and fight for Paige. She knew Joe would be dangerous, and he was. I wish the world would let up.”

“I wish Joe would let up.”

“Everybody thinks it was him, then?”

“Until we know otherwise, yes. The Monopoly piece is Paige’s favorite. She’s liked the top hat since before she knew how to play the game. Joe would know that kind of thing.”

“But if someone else did know…”

A laugh escapes. A frustrated one. “That person would have had to go to a lot of trouble to set him up. And for what? A birthday gift to his niece? He can always argue that he didn’t mean for it to be intimidating. No, it was him. He didn’t write the note or get it here, but it was him.”

Jane’s quiet. She’s quiet for so long that I run a hand up and down her back. If she’s asleep, I’ll let her be. But she stirs again, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.

“How does this stop, then?”

“A conviction.”

“He’s already in jail.”

“He’s being held in the county jail. If he’s convicted, they’ll move him somewhere else. Somewhere maximum security, I’d bet.”

“Then…” Jane lifts her head to kiss the line of my jaw. “I have to testify.”

“No, you don’t.”