“Oh, yeah. Meth or maybe opioids,” Marshall said, then fell silent, the soft tap of his fingers on the keys setting a rhythm. I had a thousand questions, but I kept quiet so he could check in with Gabrielle and run some searches. His cop friend had passed along a list of her “known associates” with the arrest record, and he was working those leads. I just drove.

When we got back to my house, I pulled boldly up into the driveway. Lexie was a lurker, but she would not be here. Given her mother’s ultimatum, watching me was a risk they didn’t have to take. I would bring Trey tomorrow or I would never again see Robert. Either way they won.

We’d beaten Trey home, but probably not by much. I needed to go inside, and yet I stayed in my seat. Marshall stayed in his, too, perhaps sensing my hesitation.

I said, “I want to apologize. For what happened in Gadsden. I know I said I could keep in character, and you didn’t want to give the Wilkersons our real names—”

He interrupted me. “It was the right call. We got what we needed.”

“But now they know who we are.” Worse, we’d shown them a picture of Spencer Shaw only a day after he’d been poisoned. If the Wilkersons told their Alabama police detectives about the second missing kid, gave them my name, they would make connections. Right now, though, I couldn’t care. Not with Robert missing. But I hoped with everything in my heart I’d care tomorrow, when Robert was home with his sisters, all three needing their mother.

“I’m not sure how much Kelly will remember,” Marshall said, cocking a wry eyebrow. “As for Adam, he won’t say a damn thing. It killed him to tell us that name. You think he’s going to talk to the cops and remind his wife that their son’s death is connected to his—” He paused, searching for the right word, careful, because whatever word he chose applied to Trey as well. He finally settled on, “Past?”

I buried my face in my hands. “But they don’t know about his death.”