“You didn’t do it. You didn’t drive the car. You didn’t run down Sian.”

His chin began to tremble. “What . . .”

“Galen Broadhurst was driving the car.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

Now his hands were shaking. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“There’s more,” I said gently. “Bob Butler helped him.”

I gave him the details, briefly and slowly, including the news that it had been Bob’s idea to have us killed. I couldn’t imagine how much it was to take in. Elation matched by betrayal.

He burst into tears. He started sobbing. I reached out with both arms and pulled him close to me, patted his back.

“The nightmare’s over,” I said, although I knew it was going to take a while for all of this to sink in. And there was going to be fallout. A lot of it.

The boy could not stop shaking. “Bob—he paid my legal bills.”

“Yeah, well, I guess he was feeling pretty guilty. It was the least he could do. Getting you off, so long as the blame didn’t shift elsewhere, was a pretty safe game for him to play.”

“My mom,” he said. “I have to tell my mom. I have to tell her what a bastard he is.”

“We’re gonna do that,” I assured him. “We’re gonna go over there now.”

Jeremy struggled to pull himself together. I found tissues in the glove box and dug out a handful for him.

“Thank you so much,” he said.

“They’re just tissues.”

“I mean, for everything. For figuring out that this whole thing was fucked up. For giving me my life back.”

I gave him a moment to get settled back into his seat, facing forward, before I keyed the ignition. “Let’s go,” I said.

I’d told Duckworth thirty minutes, but only twenty-five had passed when we pulled into the driveway of Madeline Plimpton’s house. Tires crunching on gravel was not enough to bring anyone running outside to greet us, but I could hear movement in the house when I rang the bell.

“Can’t we just walk in?” Jeremy asked.

“Not our house,” I said. “Manners.”

The door opened. Ms. Plimpton’s dour expression turned into one of joy when she saw us there.

“I tried all night to reach you!” she said, throwing her arms around the boy. “You had us worried sick.”

A second later, Gloria emerged from the kitchen area and shrieked. She had to pry Ms. Plimpton off Jeremy so she could hug him herself.

“I’m so glad you’re home!” she said. “It was a huge mistake, sending you away!” He tried to move her away as she planted kisses on his cheeks, then gave up and let her continue.

I said to Ms. Plimpton, “Where’s Bob?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” she said, and as she turned herself in that direction, Bob appeared.

Briefly.