At the same time, or shortly thereafter, Ellie urges Joshua to do the same thing: to kill his folks and sister so they could be lovers in a world of their own.

When Regina finds Merritt’s body on the edge of her property, she becomes frightened that her secret will be discovered, so she disposes of his body in the firepit.

Who could do something like that?

Considering how she managed her wife’s corpse, my bet that dismembering and burning Merritt’s body wasn’t the hardest thing she’d ever done.

Why didn’t she do the same with Mrs. Wheaton?

My thinking is that she just didn’t see her. It was dark in the woods and her vision was poor. In addition, the body was wrapped in a carpet.

All of that is conjecture informed by the evidence.

My phone pings and another piece of the puzzle falls into place as Mindy provides an update from processing the women’s bodies.

Regina poisoned herself. Tox will tell us more. The other one. Wow. Amy’s corpse was filled with charcoal. Like a bean bag. Let’s do lunch next week.

He’s drinking a Scotch and soda while I down a shot of tequila and a PBR. The burn of the alcohol feels good in its own way as it travels down my throat. I don’t even bother with the lime.

“You drink like a guy,” Sheriff says with a smile.

“You do too. Sometimes.”

We laugh and then stare ahead at the back bar while the bartender, a portly man in his late forties, chats up a young pretty brunette nursing a gin and tonic. She’s acting interested, but I’ve seen that look before. Used it myself even. She’s talking to him because no one better has sidled up next to her.

Not yet.

“I knew you’d be the best detective I’d ever hired,” he says, unsuccessfully motioning for a second Scotch.

“I don’t know. You sure took a chance on me.”

He knows some of the baggage I carry with me, but not the worst of it. I doubt he’d have hired me if he knew.

I know I wouldn’t.

It feels uncomfortable just then. It’s me, of course. Compliments are hard to accept. I think that it’s because, deep down, I feel like a fraud. Dr. Albright warned me that it would be a lifelong battle and I might never fully believe that I am a good person, that the sins of my past don’t define me.

I immediately segue to the case. I resist the urge to write on the cocktail napkin. It’s complicated, but Sheriff knows all the pieces.

Just not how they all fit.

“It was through Sarah that Ellie met Josh,” I say.

“Through the hate-my-parents’ social site.”

“Correct.”