That’s exactly what the detective was trying to do—get under my skin, rove inside my mind, discover my secrets. It was impossible to tell from his inscrutable face if he was having any luck as he watched me, like I was a zoo animal behind glass. He wanted to break through that glass, and if I had to, to protect Robin I just might let him.

Things were quickly spiraling out of control, sorrow and regret fogging up my judgment, and there was no way to put Humpty Dumpty together again. But no matter how much I lied or killed or ran to protect myself, I would never send my friends to hell in my place.

Chapter 37

Lily

SUNDAY EVENING

It was officially the worst day of my life.

Up until now, the day of the car accident had been, when my body was broken along with my dreams, but back then at least I had Tony to hold my hand through it. And my two best friends to bring me casseroles and cake. Today I had no one. I was bound to Mackenzie by a lie, estranged from Robin because of an affair, and torn from Tony, the only love of my life, by addiction. What else was here for me? Nothing but mistakes, regret, and anguish.

As I sat in my car in front of Robin’s house, it was a last-ditch effort to fix the damage I’d done. There was just so much damage.

Detective Bill Rossi had left my apartment after an hour and a half of questioning that I lied my way through. I hated lying almost as much as I hated being a drug addict, but they somehow went hand in hand and their grip was tight.

“Was Mackenzie Fischer here with you last night?” he had asked point-blank.

“Yes, sir. She slept over after we’d had a few drinks.” Lie.

“Around what time did she leave?”

“It was early this morning, sometime around three thirty, I think.” Another lie.

“Did you speak with her after she left?” This was the only question I could answer truthfully.

“She called me when she got home, then again after she found Owen . . . dead.” For a moment I had relived the conversation in my head, Mac calling me frantically. He’s dead, Lily. Owen’s dead.

She never explained how he died, but I had a dark feeling Mackenzie knew more than she was letting on. In the moment I had told her how sorry I was, but that was a lie too. I didn’t feel bad for Owen; Mac was the one I was worried about. Even through the phone I could hear her unraveling as the deafening sound of sirens cut her off.

“And how did she seem when she spoke with you?” the detective asked coolly.