“Now you have it. He was with me. In bed. All night.” She motions toward the door with her empty wineglass. “It’s getting late.”

“Thank you for your time.” I start toward the door.

She trails me to the foyer. I open the door and step onto the porch. “Have a nice evening,” I say.

Glenda Patterson slams the door behind me without responding.

My house is tucked away on a good-size lot on the edge of town. It’s a small two-bedroom, one-bath ranch built back in the 1960s with hardwood floors and the original tile. A big maple tree stands like a sentry in the front yard. The backyard is shady with several black walnut trees. The grass needs mowing and the shutters could use a coat of paint. But this is my home, my refuge, and I’m unduly glad to be here tonight.

I park in the driveway and let myself in through the front door. The scents of candle wax, yesterday’s garbage and the lingering memory of Tomasetti greet me. Flipping on the light, I make my way to the bedroom and change into sweatpants and a T-shirt. I think about calling him as I make my way to the kitchen. But the thought makes me feel like a needy female, so I opt for my bottle of Absolut instead.

Like many cops I’ve known, I do some of my best thinking after I’ve had a few drinks. At least that’s what I tell myself. Tonight, my mind is on the Plank family. On Mary. On the accomplice I now know exists. I can practically feel the son of a bitch slinking around town, smug in the knowledge that he got away with murder. The reality of that is like salt on a wound. I can’t get past it. I won’t because as surely as I’m standing here contemplating drinking myself into a stupor, I know someday he’ll kill again.

Snagging a tumbler from the cupboard, I pull the bottle from the cabinet above the refrigerator and pour three fingers into the glass. I take the first heady drink as I walk back into the living room. The evidence box marked T. Long Suicide waits for me next to the door. The last thing I want to do is look at the remaining four disks. I don’t have a choice.

I carry the box to my office. While my computer boots, I go back to the kitchen and retrieve the bottle of Absolut. I can’t watch the disks without the crutch of alcohol. The warm swirl of it melts around my brain as I drop the first disk into the drive. Settling into the chair behind my desk, I click Play.