“I didn’t. Not really. I was half asleep, heard a noise, came downstairs. Tessa and Tommy … They were on the couch. Then there was a noise, and Tommy stood up, kind of stepped back, then fell down. Then Tessa stood up, saw me, and started crying. She held out her hand, and she was holding a gun. That was the first thing I really noticed. Tessa had a gun. The rest sunk in from there.”

“What did you do?”

Juliana was quiet. “It’s been a long time.”

D.D. waited.

“I don’t understand. Why these questions now? I told everything to the police. Last I knew, it was an open-and-shut case. Tommy had a reputation … The detective said Tessa wasn’t the first girl he’d hurt.”

“What do you think?”

Juliana shrugged. “He was my brother,” she whispered. “Honestly, I try not to think about it.”

“Did you believe Tessa that night? That your friend was protecting herself?”

“I don’t know.”

“She ever show any interest in Tommy before? Ask about his schedule? Bat her eyelashes in his direction?”

Juliana shook her head, still not looking at D.D.

“But you never spoke to her afterward. You cast her out. Like her father.”

Now Juliana flushed. Her grip tightened on her baby. He whimpered and immediately she let go.

“Something was wrong with Tommy,” she said abruptly.

D.D. waited.

“My parents couldn’t see it. But he was … mean. If he wanted something, he took it. Even when we were little, if I had a toy and he wanted that toy …” She shrugged again. “He’d break something, rather than let me keep it. My father would say boys will be boys, and let it go. But I learned. Tommy wanted what he wanted and you didn’t get in his way.”

“You think he attacked Tessa.”

“I think when Detective Walthers told us other girls had called about Tommy, I wasn’t surprised. My parents were horrified. My father … he still doesn’t believe. But I could. Tommy wanted what he wanted and you didn’t get in his way.”

“Did you ever tell that to Tessa?”

“I haven’t spoken to Tessa Leoni in ten years.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” The ubiquitous shrug again. “Tommy wasn’t just my brother—he was my parents’ son. And when he died … My parents burned up their savings on Tommy’s funeral. Then, when my father couldn’t go back to work, we lost our house. My parents had to declare bankruptcy. Eventually, they divorced. My mother and I moved in with my aunt. My father had a nervous breakdown. He lives in an institution, where he spends his days going through Tommy’s scrapbook. He can’t get over it. He just can’t. The world is a terrible place, where your child can be killed and the police cover it up.”