Robin retrieved his pen. His voice was steady again. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

And Matthew was defensive again. As though they had settled back into their roles and found comfort in them. “I didn’t know she was missing. I didn’t know until you told me. I just thought she was some drunk.”

“She wasn’t a drunk. She was my wife.”

“I didn’t ask her to call me,” Matthew said.

Robin slammed his fist down on the metal desk. He knew Matthew was right. But he still couldn’t bring himself to think that he wasn’t the one she’d called. There had to be a reason. “And that is all? That’s it?”

Matthew’s expression seemed to hold nothing but sorrow and understanding. “Yes.”

But Robin felt like walking out, leaving, not giving this man a moment more of his time. “You’re lying. There’s more.”

Robin couldn’t place the look on Matthew’s face until he heard his voice. “I am lying.” It was disgust. He was disgusted. With himself. “I can’t tell you everything. And I’m sorry about that. But I need you to help me.”

So there it was. The incentive. The one bargaining chip Matthew held.

“You’ll tell me now.”

“I can’t do that. I need to know you’ll help me.”

“I will help you if you tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said, as tears rolled down his face. He seemed to be thinking, his face screwing up into a concentrated frown. “But I have to get out of here. I didn’t do it, Mr. Ferringham. I loved them. I could never do it. If you at least try to help, even if it doesn’t work, I’ll tell you everything else I know. I promise. I trust you—I’m asking you to please trust me.”

“It’s hard to trust someone who’s been arrested for the murder of five people.”

Matthew shook with tears. “I know.”

Robin stopped as Matthew composed himself. He wanted to believe the young man. He seemed genuine—he seemed in pain at the loss of his friends. But what if it was all an act? What if the real person he was mourning was the innocent Matthew that died in the tunnel?

It was hard for Robin to think with this mess of humanity in front of him, but he had to remember that currently the evidence pointed toward Matthew as the killer.

And yet even then he might be a killer withholding information about Sam.

He had to know what Matthew knew. Maybe it was something that could help him find her, find out what happened three years ago. “I need you to give me your word. Right now. I help you. You tell me everything.”

“I promise,” Matthew said. “Really. Honestly. I promise.”

Robin looked at him. “Okay. Okay. I’ll help you.”