“Me either, honey, and Harley tried his best to convince them, but they got something on him. Something bad.”

When Charlie left the barbecue on Saturday night, he said it was because of work. When he returned, he told Lane they’d been at Miguel’s. What had they found? Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She peered out the window and could see the outline of the courthouse.

“They’re wrong, Dottie. Whatever they’ve got . . . it can’t be Miguel.”

Lane ended the call just as Noah came traipsing down the stairs.

If Miguel had been at her parents’ house on Saturday night—why? And why did she have such a strong feeling that he wasn’t the killer? People hid the things that shamed them most. Maybe Miguel was a killer hiding out. Pretending to be normal . . . like her.

“Everything okay?” Meagan put a hand on Lane’s shoulder. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine.” Lane shook her head and shook off the dark thoughts pervading her mind. She really needed to see Dr. Wong, but first she needed to know if she was wrong and Charlie was right.

Noah peeked through the spindles of the stairs. “Can I take my train with me to Pops?”

Lane squeezed her eyes shut. She doubted she’d have enough time to drop off Noah with Pops before her father issued the warrant. “Change of plans, bud. You can’t go to Pops’s right now.”

Noah’s lips began to quiver and, like magic, crocodile-size tears filled his eyes. She definitely didn’t have time for a breakdown.

“I can take him . . . or he can come with me.” Meagan spoke softly, her cheeks flushed. “I mean, if you need to be somewhere. Paige and Owen will be home soon and they can play in the sprinklers. I promise I won’t let him out of my sight for even a second.”

Lane knew what happened at the barbecue was an accident. Her sister really did love Noah and wouldn’t let anything happen to him, but a tingle of fear kept Lane from answering her sister for a few seconds.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Meagan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“I can play with Owen and Paige.” Noah smiled. “Can I still bring my train?”

“Sure, but hurry.”

Meagan smiled, but it was lacking something. “Thank you.”

Lane studied Meagan. The last thing she wanted was for her sister to feel guilty about what happened, but Meagan’s face held the same pale pallor it had the night of the barbecue. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure.” Meagan ran a hand over the peach sheath dress that highlighted her perfectly tan skin. “You know, all the Junior League meetings leading up to the fund-raiser and the auction, added with the chaos of”—her eyes flashed to Lane’s— “well, I think it’s zapped my energy.”