Grendel loves Preston and his family. Even though he hasn’t lived with them for a while, he remembers them. I’ve occasionally brought him over to run around the yard with Preston’s kids. Even his daughter who is supposed to be allergic enjoys playing with Grendel, which confirmed my belief it was a story meant to make it easier for me to accept the gift. She’d throw a ball over and over, giggling when he brought it back to her, slobbering on her tiny hands. And she’d stick her face right into his fur, showing no side effects.

Preston bends down and pets Grendel while I start to talk.

“You’re going to want to hear what’s going on,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, still petting the dog, but his eyes trail up to meet mine. He must detect something in my voice, my manner, that tells him something is really wrong.

“I mean it, Preston. I’m in real trouble.”

He remains in place, bent over Grendel, but the muscles in his arms tense. His jaw looks set.

I wish I knew a better way to tell him, some words that wouldn’t embarrass me or make him think I’ve lost my mind.

I just say it.

When I tell him about talking to Zach and the police finding out about it, he slowly straightens up, his mouth partway open, his eyes watching me like I’m a crazy person.

“Why did you go harass that guy, Connor?” he says.

“I wasn’t trying to harass him, Preston. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not making any sense, Connor. None at all. Are you saying you went to the home of a murder victim’s husband and threatened him?”

“I didn’t threaten him. I wanted to talk to him because of what the police think about Sophia and me. But now he’s told them, and it makes me look very bad.”

“You’re damn right it does.” Preston runs his hand through his hair, looks up at the ceiling. “This is all wrong.”

“It’s true, Preston. I hate to be the guy to bring this news so late at night. In the middle of your family’s lives.” I look around the calm space, let my eyes drift down the hallway to where his kids peacefully sleep. I feel like a barbarian intruder, carrying the insanity of the outside world into this sanctuary.

I explain about the call from Diana.

“They might come and question me more at any point,” I say. “I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t stand the thought I’d be locked up and might never get out. I didn’t want Grendel to be abandoned in the house. What if they really start to think I’m guilty of her murder?”

“Okay, okay.” He wipes his eyes, once with each hand. “Holy shit, Connor. Damn.”

“I know.”