“Even if that wasn’t planted later as an alibi, Raleigh still has over an hour to commit the crime.”

Caruthers shook his head. “But he was at Lucy’s house.”

“According to him, not her.” They are going out of their way to believe him. Jesus, these men. “There’s no evidence of that. We don’t know where he is for close to three hours.”

“That’s not his obligation to prove.” Ferris was not smiling anymore. “The burden of proof—”

“Think about all that is going on here.” Anne started flipping through her steno pad. “The phony death threats, trouble with his mistress, drinking throughout that night, the phone calls to the house citing the wrong time without a watch, the scrubbed-clean crime scene, his remoteness when the paramedics arrive, the guilt riddling his suicide note, which is practically a confession. And then he broke down on the witness stand because he can’t bear it.”

“That’s all well and good. But circumstantial . . .”

Anne kept driving hard. “What more circumstances do you need before you know?”

“How do you think he did it?” Tamara Robbins asked. She was in Anne’s corner.

“I think he went into the house around eleven p.m. He turns off the alarm. She hears him come in and confronts him about the affair. Maybe threatens to call him out in front of his congregation. He strangles her in the kitchen. Drags her to the garage. Cleans up any signs of their struggle. Stages it so that it looks like he’s just come home, lifts the garage door, wipes his prints from the handle, backs the car down the driveway, and then he realizes something—”

“Listen, Mizz Malone, your theories . . .” Jim Keller leaned back, chuckling. The tone drove Anne batshit. Goddamn good ole boy.

“She’s not dead. Still breathing. And he leaves her there, waiting for her to die.”

“Good Lord . . . ,” Carla Mirlo whispered.

Ferris tried to take back the wheel. “Mrs. Malone, why don’t we settle down for one minute . . .”

This goddamn eejit dentist is going to split the room. “Fine, but can I ask a question? Since this trial started, how often has Dr. Raleigh gone to visit his wife in the hospital?”

Caruthers shrugged. “I don’t think he testified to it.”

“If you were betting on it, how often? Once a week? Once a month?” Anne knew the answer from reading the papers. Not supposed to bring that in, but who else is going to speak for Peggy Raleigh?

“Maybe they won’t let him see her.”

“Possible.” They give the reverend every benefit of the doubt while his wife has the bruises from his hands on her throat. “But if he didn’t do it, if his conscience is clear, wouldn’t he be taking care of her, praying for her recovery? Even if he cheated on her, wouldn’t he be compelled to be at her side?”