It’s a ten-minute drive to Preston’s house. I don’t even bother to text or call. His kids will be asleep, but I know he stays awake working most nights when the house is quiet. He gets by on less sleep than I do and bounces out of bed early in the morning, heading to the gym before he works a full day on campus.

The streets are quiet, most houses dark. While I drive, I also think about Madeline, out there in the world with that manuscript that incriminates me. I always liked her as a student, and I believed she liked me. I remember her coming to my office to discuss a story she wrote. Even coming to my house a couple of nights ago, sitting in my living room, so calmly laying out what she wanted me to do.

I’ve always felt paternal toward my students, even before I lost Jake. Since his death, that feeling has swelled, filling me with an intense appreciation for the kids in my classes. Their wit and talent, their anxieties and insecurities. Their striving. Jake would be one of them now, attending a college, going to classes, making new friends. Even stumbling and falling as he tried new things.

I have to slow down, wipe tears from my eyes. I simply can’t process or accept that I’m a suspect in the eyes of the police.

I can’t.

I pull into Preston’s neighborhood, which is just outside downtown. Mostly ranches built after World War II, back when not everything looked the same: low, sleek houses with large windows and big yards. I pull into his driveway and feel relief when I see the light on in his office near the back of the house. I text him, telling him I’m here with Grendel.

He writes back immediately and comes to the front door, waving me in.

I grab Grendel by the leash, along with his supplies, and go up the walk. Preston lets me into the living room, where a single lamp glows, casting a warm light over the space. The furniture is modern and spare, but the room still feels inviting. Maybe it’s something about the lives being lived here—a family, children. A refuge against everything.

Preston speaks in a low voice. “Kelly and the kids are asleep. What is going on that you’re over here this late?”