Joe visibly seethes. “Seaview saviors, the next generation. An Ellis and a Vann. All we need is a Bergen, and it would be a party. But…she can’t come, can she?”

I hide my disgust. I’m starting to wonder if Natalie’s coroner missed signs of a shot of insulin. It’s the one missing piece to be the perfect copycat of the original murder.

“Did you have a relationship with Caroline?” I probe.

“Define ‘relationship.’ ”

“Did you hook up?”

Joe ticks his head. Guess that slang hasn’t made it to prison.

“Go beyond flirting,” I clarify.

The corners of Joe’s mouth tilt up. “She came to my cubby a few times, yeah. She was a sweet girl.” His eyes rake over me, and a sick feeling swirls in my stomach. Then he gives a little grunt. “You’re the spitting image of Maura at that age. Maybe even sexier. But don’t tell her I said that.”

Ben grabs my hand, gives it a squeeze. Whether out of reassurance or to stop me from punching Joe in the face, I can’t say.

“You liked my grandmother, then?”

“Maura was…fun.” There’s that Cheshire cat grin. Like he hopes what he said unsettles me. It does.

“She turned you in to the police.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he replies, glib.

“Is that why she visits you? As some kind of…penance?”

“Maura and I are good. We made peace a long time ago. Things got a bit out of hand back then, but she did what she had to do. I respect that. And she talks about interesting shit, unlike my sister. And she sends me a copy of every book, before it’s published. Makes me very popular with the boys. I’m better than the library.”

There’s a personal Maura Weston lending library in the prison. Huh.

“Have you read them?” Joe asks. His eyes glitter with mischief.

“I read the one on the boat,” I recite, robotically at this point.

“Aww, you haven’t read mine?”

“Parts,” I say. “And I saw the movie.”

Joe smacks his lips, leans back with hands behind his head. “I liked the guy they cast as me. Though you know they made him a teacher for that. Classed it up.”

“It was Maura who made him a teacher. For her book.”

“I guess ‘hooking up’ with a teacher is less shameful.”

He serves my words back to me like he’s throwing knives. I don’t appreciate the implication. That he was anything but a huge creep with my grandmother. With Caroline.

“It never bothered you that she wrote a book about what you did?” Ben says, joining the conversation. He leans forward with his elbows on the table. Fearless. I nudge closer to him on the bench, savor the way our thighs touch.