It hit me like a flash, the messages I’d received from her.

‘Vera found me?’

‘Wrapped around a tree,’ he said. ‘It’s a miracle you came out as unscathed as you did.’

‘I don’t understand.’

McKnight pressed his palms to his knees. ‘Just keep going. Please.’

‘Sam Alby was there, and that made me nervous.’

‘Did Mr Alby threaten you at all?’

‘Not outright, no. But he could tell I was upset, and as I was leaving, he asked me what had me so scared. It freaked me out.’

‘And why were you upset?’

I hesitated. How could I possibly explain to him that she’d broken my heart, saying what she had.

I know that you loved him, Lucy.

You wanted him to be a bad guy, so you could have him.

I expected better of you.

Just like my parents, Vera had seen right through me, seen all the most horrible parts of me. She was supposed to love me, but I had proven myself unlovable yet again.

‘I really wanted to go home, but she was so drunk, she wouldn’t agree to come with me. I just had to get out of there.’

McKnight tilted his head to the side. ‘And why did you take Ms Abernathy’s car? Why not call a cab?’

‘I’d already taken her keys because she was drinking so much … I was worried that if I didn’t use her car, she would.’

‘Had you been drinking?’ McKnight asked.

I shook my head vehemently. ‘I mean, not really. Maybe one or two glasses total over the entire night.’

‘Mr Alby said that he saw you stumble.’

Were they listening to him – taking him seriously – still? Maybe McKnight was here to arrest me, and this was just the next step in his plan …

‘Miss King.’

‘I wasn’t intoxicated. I swear.’

McKnight raised his hand. ‘Your hospital records confirm as much. But I want to know why you left, what had you so riled up that you had to go, right then. Without your coat, even. Or telling Ms Abernathy you’d gone.’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared.’

‘Scared of?’

I blinked slowly. ‘Of everything.’

McKnight made a couple of notes on his notepad, then sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Miss King, there have been some developments in Mr Nolan’s case.’

His words hung in the air as the blood drained from my face.

I imagined him pulling out his cuffs, arresting me right there. Reading me my Miranda rights while fastening me to this awful metal bed. Never seeing my sweet Dusty again …