“I get it. He’s here because you found Sutton. Tell me. I’m ready.”

Officer Graham swallowed. “Sir, we have recovered a body. Unfortunately, there is no way to positively identify the remains without DNA or dental records.”

Dread, deep in his gut. “Why not?”

“The body was burned.”

“Burned?” Images he would never shake paraded into his mind.

“Yes, sir.”

I should have called the police immediately. Insisted they look for her. I should have been out there, beating the bushes. What was I thinking? I could have saved her if I’d called. I knew the note was bogus. I knew something was really wrong.

“Who? Who did this to her?” he whispered. “Oh my God, Sutton.”

And he broke apart, a million memories overwhelming him. He started to cry, heaving, jagged sobs. The idea of her body, her beautiful, lithe body, that gorgeous, smiling face, destroyed, made him want to scream. Not only murdered, but defaced with fire. It was too much.

The priest was saying things, muttering nonsense meant to calm and soothe, but Ethan couldn’t understand a word. All he could hear was her name, over and over and over again, a holy wail building like a wave in his chest until he was screaming it out loud.

“Sutton. Sutton. Sutton!”

A hand on his shoulder. He vaguely heard the cop talking on the phone. Realized the look on her face had changed. The sorrow was gone, and in its place was a steely resolve.

She hung up the phone and faced him. “Sir. Mr. Montclair. I’m so sorry for your loss, but I’m going to need you to come in and have a conversation with us, on the record.”

He saw her hand unconsciously inch toward her belt. Saw the silver glint of her handcuffs.

“Are you arresting me?” Ethan asked.

“We just need to have a conversation. We need to talk about all of this on the record.”

Father Jameson said, “It seems to me the man needs a doctor, not a jail cell.”

“Thank you for your assessment, Father. I’m following orders.” And to Ethan. “I need you to come with me now, sir.”

Ethan didn’t care anymore. He’d known the moment they found her they’d think he killed her. It was as inevitable as the sunrise.

He shrugged. Let them think what they wanted. He knew he wasn’t responsible.

Graham took him by the arm. “There are media parked outside. I don’t know how to get you out of here without them seeing.”

Again, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

The door opened. Shutters began to click. The media rushed the porch, shouting.

Graham immediately slammed the door. “Crap. More than I expected. They’ve surrounded my car, too.”

“I guess you’ll have to interview me here.”

Graham narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m calling in.”