Even though I knew the circumstances here were very different, I didn’t want to wade too far into this. Alicia had plenty of reason to be angry with Jeremy, even if her own daughter had to shoulder some of the blame.

“I didn’t make her come,” Jeremy said meekly. “And I didn’t run that car into hers.”

“Oh, don’t think for a minute that Charlene isn’t going to get an earful. But you—you shouldn’t even be free. You should be in jail, and not for some short visit, either.”

If I were Alicia Wilson, I wouldn’t feel much differently. Charlene wouldn’t be here if Jeremy hadn’t told her where he was. He’d clearly done nothing to discourage her from coming to see him for the second time in two days, even after my lecture about putting her at risk.

If I were Alicia Wilson, I’d rip his face off.

There was also our chat of the night before, once the lights were off, about owning up to his actions, about taking some responsibility for them.

“You got anything you want to say, Jeremy?” I asked him.

His eyes searched mine, as though he might find the answer there.

“Like what?” he said.

Alicia laughed. “He’s unbelievable.” The laughter quickly faded. “Stay away from my daughter. If you ever so much as wave to her from across the street, let alone send her a text, I’ll get a restraining order against you.”

Jeremy looked down.

Alicia turned and walked away.

“You had a chance there,” I said.

“A chance to what?”

“To do something right. To say you were sorry. To accept even some share of responsibility for what happened.”

“I just . . . I didn’t know what to . . . I . . .” His eyes were wet. “Do you think,” he asked me tentatively, “I could just say goodbye to Charlene?”

“With her mother there? Are you serious?”

His chest collapsed, his body a balloon that had just been pricked.

“I need to call your mom. Let everyone know what’s going on.”

Jeremy sighed.

We exited the ER and started walking back to my Honda. I didn’t want to have my chat with his mother in his presence, so I got out my keys and said, “If I give you these, you promise not to run off with the car?”

He took them. “Yeah, like I could even drive your car.”

“I’m not even sure I thought to lock it,” I said. When we’d arrived, we’d raced straight into the ER to see how Charlene was, and some things had probably slipped my mind.

As Jeremy walked away, I entered a number into my phone. Madeline Plimpton answered.

“Mr. Weaver?”

“Hi,” I said.

“We were going to call you. Well, Bob or I were going to. Not Gloria.”

“What’s going on?”