Once we’re inside, Colt leads me to the sofa and has me sit before pulling out his phone and placing yet another call. “Hey, it’s me. For fuck’s sake, call me back, text me, something. Let me know where you are.” I don’t need to ask who he called. Nix is MIA and has been since Colt first called him after the police arrived and pulled us away from the house.

I don’t think I’ve ever been asked the same questions so many times in a row. Yes, I received a phone call from my mother that inspired my stepbrother and me to go to the house. No, I didn’t see anybody who shouldn’t have been around—no strange cars, no people. No, we didn’t hear anything coming from the house before the explosion.

No, I can’t imagine who would do this.

Then again, the detectives we spoke to made it a point to remind us there’s no way of knowing just yet exactly what happened. Why did the house explode like it did? “It could be a faulty gas line. Unfortunately, these things do happen. Did your mother say anything about a strange smell in the house?”

The question shouldn’t have made me laugh, but it did, laughter I couldn’t hold back no matter how embarrassing it was. The two detectives exchanged a look I knew was one of concern but not surprise. They’ve probably seen enough people in shock to dismiss things like that.

No, there wasn’t a strange smell in the house. It was something much worse.

Did he do it? Why would he have done it? No, I can’t believe he would deliberately blow up his own house to cover up what he’d done. Not while he was still inside. Granted, we don’t know for sure whether he was, but facts are facts. There’s no reaching James on his phone, he wasn’t at the office, and his car was in the driveway. It’s now ruined, of course, buried under a mountain of rubble.

“We still don’t know for sure.” Colt crouches in front of me, taking my hands and rubbing them briskly like he’s trying to rub life into me. “They could have gone somewhere. He could have set something up and taken her away to cover it up, you know? I wouldn’t put that past him. We still have to hope.”

It’s like I’ve never seen him before. Who is this person? Kind and helpful and sweet. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” I whisper. It’s the first thing I’ve said since we parted ways with the detectives, who promised they’d pay a visit as soon as they knew anything.