My hand needed five stitches. I’m grateful that I wasn’t injured elsewhere. I don’t want the doctors at the hospital to see the other marks on my body, scars that were waypoints on my fight for survival. It’s the same reason I don’t go to the beach. I wonder if anyone has noticed that and assumes that I have some kind of body dysmorphia or am a cutter.

I would actually love for either of those to have been my problem.

At least those would have been options of my own doing.

Very little evidence was recovered from the Wheaton residence and outbuildings. Bernie’s belief that Joshua and Ellie were having sex, however, was backed up by DNA collected from Josh’s bed. It appeared that Ellie brought nothing from her old life when she arrived in Snow Creek. A burn barrel in the yard, however, was filled with some of the remains of Ida and Merritt’s clothing. The wedding photo that had been reframed was there too.

“Ellie’s got a lawyer from Bellevue,” Sheriff says as he scoots into my office with the daily paper and a couple of blueberry muffins his wife made.

“She says it’s the lemon that makes them.”

I smile. He’s probably eating his third muffin of the day.

“A lawyer from Bellevue,” I repeat. “Sounds pricey.”

“Rolex-type guy.”

“Aunt Laurna?”

He takes a big bite. “Yeah.”

I shake my head and put down the muffin. “Her niece killed her sister and brother-in-law.”

“The aunt refuses to believe it.”

“She’ll be in for a rude awakening when we unlock the phone.”

“Could be. Remember, it’s not our case. It’s Clallam’s.”

Of course, I know that.

“Right. We’re opening the phone for our case, and if we stumble onto something that’ll help Clallam, we’re good with that, right?”

He eats the rest of his muffin.

I dial Laurna right away. She answers after several rings. I don’t even bother with a hello.

“Laurna, what’s going on? You know what Ellie did.”

“Look, Detective, I saw it was you and I wasn’t going to pick up. I am told by Ellie’s lawyer that I shouldn’t talk to any police. It could hurt her case.”

I’m exasperated, and my tone shows it. “What case? You know what she did, Laurna.”

She breathes into the phone.

She’s thinking. Deciding. Maybe preparing a lie.

“Yes, I do. I know. She said she was abused. I believe her. I have a way of connecting with her that allows me to see through the veil of any lies she might be telling.”

My heart sinks lower and lower. I don’t even know what to say. I hold my tongue and let her finish.