“They know,” Marshall said quietly. I peeked out, a question in my eyes. “Kelly does anyway. She kept using the past tense. All the photos were down. They pulled out half the furniture, too. Kid things, I’d guess, going by the imprints in the carpet. You don’t do that if you think your kid is coming back.” His mouth pressed into a thin line that looked angry, but I knew it wasn’t. This conversation, it hit him in his fatherhood. He’d checked in with Cara on the drive, too. I’d heard her yelling joyfully through his phone. Something about a Jet Ski. He added, “Even if Adam is less certain, he won’t say anything to the police. Not even behind his wife’s back.”

“Why?” I asked. He sounded so certain.

Marshall paused, but he wasn’t thinking. He had an answer. I could almost see it in his mouth. He didn’t look at me when he said it. “Shame.”

We sat for another minute, silence building between us. I agreed with him. Adam struck me as a small person. Pompous and self-protecting. My heart went out to him anyway. To both of the Wilkersons, trapped in their terrible loss.

I said, “Promise me, when this is over, no matter what, we’ll let them know about Geoff. I keep thinking about Kelly especially. And the police suspect her, on top of everything. We have to take that pressure off her and let her know what really happened. She deserves to know for certain. So she can . . .” I didn’t know what. Recover? She wouldn’t. Not in the way that word implied. You don’t lose a child and come back to the world the same. “Grieve. Grieve in peace.” That she could do. That she deserved.

“We’ll find a way. Let’s get Robert home. Then we’ll do right by them,” he promised. I could live with that. He said, “But first I have to track down Lexie Pine.”

He looked so tired, though. He’d barely slept last night, and here he was, charging off into another sleepless night to track her down.

“What will you do with her?” I asked.

He looked at me, an appraising, very Marshall look, as if trying to decide how much I wanted to know. “I’ll bring her back to your house. Until it’s time to meet her mother.” He made it sound so simple, so easy. As if he’d offer her an arm like a wedding usher and escort her here.

“Don’t baby me,” I said. “I’m in this with you. God, you’re only in it at all because of me.”