“Yeah, but Nick had it under control. Makes me think he stopped taking his meds or something, but that doesn’t make sense, either. None of it does.”

Meds. Interesting. I file this information away and say, “You couldn’t have foreseen this. None of us could. He suffered silently.”

“So what?” Hank snaps. “We had a pact. My kids pledge to reach out if they ever get the urge to hurt themselves or someone else. They’ve all been to hell and back, but they have tools. Nick didn’t call anyone.”

“Maybe reception was bad.”

“Seventeen kids and three staff are on that list. None of us got messages. He didn’t try hard enough.” He steps closer. “Tell me something else. You ever hear of him using drugs?”

“What?”

“I probably shouldn’t say anything.” Hank sits down and starts playing with zigzag scissors. “Might just be for family.”

“What might be for family?”

“Something in the autopsy.” He flexes the pinking shears in his hand. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

I swallow. “The autopsy’s back? I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? You hardly knew Nick.”

“I mean, I knew him.”

“Believe me, you hardly knew him.”

“Of course.”

“Those cops won’t tell, anyway. They only talk to get information.” Percussive snip-snip. “Hey. One more thing. Is it true you knew how dangerous your roof is?”

“Yes. That’s why it was off-limits. Nick knew that.”

“Yet somehow he was there.” Hank puts the scissors back where he found them and stands. “You probably shouldn’t worry, though. I keep telling Naomi to go ahead and file a suit, that it’s the insurance company that takes the hit, not you. She gets all sensitive about it, but she’s starting to come around, now that she knows she’d be suing you in name only, really. That’s what insurance is for, right?” Without pause, he says, “Well, I should go,” and doesn’t bother looking at me, let alone saying good-bye, when he leaves me alone in a room full of glitter and brass tacks.

24.