“Oh god.” I put my head in my hands.

“Thought you could give us the slip, eh, bro?” Sharon said.

Kevin looked alarmed at the end of the bar.

“How did you know I was down here?” I asked, reaching for my drink.

“Khalid hears everything, eventually.”

“I bet he does.”

“It’s a dangerous thing you’re doing here.” Linda jerked a thumb toward the room. “Any of these creeps could have it in for you.”

“Well, I feel very reassured by your presence,” I said. “Thanks so much for coming. Try not to crush anyone before you know they’re really a threat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is everything okay here?” a voice asked. Fabiana Grisham was standing in the doorway, looking stunning, as usual. She’d cut her hair into a short, deep red bob, and her gray dress was tight over her severe, hardened figure. Linda’s and Sharon’s stools creaked as they leaned back to get a proper look at her.

“It’s okay.” I got up and went to her, hugged her, got one of her sharp pecks on my cheek. “They’re associates of mine.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Ted,” she said. “I know times are tough right now. But, like I said on the phone, this is really critical to maintaining the podcast. You have to appear supportive. People want to know that you know they’re on your side.”

“It’s an odd feeling,” I admitted. “I mean, I don’t know these people. Why are they on my side?”

“Because they want to see justice done,” she said. “Everybody does.”

I wondered what that meant. Was justice to these people simply me having my name cleared? Or would the podcast perhaps be responsible one day for catching Claire’s real attacker? The show was called Innocent Ted. Though I couldn’t bear to listen to it, I wondered if perhaps I should. Fabiana had dug deep, deep into my life and the events surrounding Claire’s ordeal. I was about to sit in a room with a bunch of people who knew things about me that I couldn’t possibly guess.

“Thanks for setting this up,” I told her, despite my reservations.

“Well, we’re almost ready to get rolling.” She patted me on the shoulder. “It’s time for your close-up, Mr. Conkaffey.”

Amanda didn’t need them to tell her what had happened. She knew from the house around her, could see the story in their eyes. She lay on the floor and watched it happening in her mind, almost like a film, the minutes ticking by and the house darkening behind her eyelids.

It had been a loud night. Creatures squawking in the trees, rustling along the creek bed, now and then a curious possum squeezing through the gap in the fence, an old paling rotted and fallen away.