He comes and stands in front of the screen door, which is filled with a storm window for winter. It’s filled with glass year-round, even in the summer, because I’m too lazy to change them. But the glass is thin, and he can be heard through it.

“If you have something to say, make it fast,” I say. I hold up the phone. “I’m ready to call the cops.”

He holds his hands out so I can see the palms. He looks young and meek. And cold. His cheeks are flushed above his stubble.

“I just want to talk about Sophia,” he says. “About who really killed her.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

He stays on the porch, hands still raised like he’s surrendering.

“Why the fuck aren’t you in jail?” I ask.

“I was because of what I did to you. I’m out on bail, and I’m just going to plead guilty. Breaking and entering. Assault. My lawyer is figuring it all out.”

“Good,” I say.

“Everybody’s saying that Lance did this, that he killed Madeline and Sophia. And that’s why he killed himself. But I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why? Because he was your friend? Because you used to go to his parties and feel up college girls?”

The flush on his face intensifies, and he looks away for a moment and then back at me. “Lance was my friend. Neither one of us was perfect, but he was my friend, okay? And he looked out for me. My dad was never around, okay? And Lance . . . well, he treated me well. And I’m here trying to help, man. I am.”

“Help how? Did you tell Lance the details of Sophia’s murder?”

“What are you talking about? The cops never told me anything about what happened to Sophia. I was a suspect. They don’t tell suspects the details of a crime. I asked them to tell me more about her murder. I wanted to know. To understand. I begged them to tell me what happened. Sophia was my wife. We had problems, almost all of them my fault, but she was my wife.”

“Did you talk to Lance about Sophia at all?”

“Look, man, that night I came over here and went nuts . . . and I’m sorry about that. I am. But when I did that . . . I did it because the cops came and talked to me. They told me you were a suspect in Sophia’s murder. It just . . . It got me really wound up. And I lost it. It’s so much pressure. . . .”

“Okay, if you came to apologize for that—”