Buddy frowns. “I didn’t say that. But ask anybody here. They’ll tell you that man don’t play fair.” He slaps a palm to the countertop. “Food’ll be up shortly.”

He ducks back inside and that’s it. Conversation over.

I wait for the food, contemplating Buddy’s words. I knew Chief Hunt was mean and power-hungry, that his policies were biased against the working class, that the sight of him kicked my heart into gear.

But dirty?

Buddy reappears, shoving two cans and the baskets of food at my chest, and I suddenly can’t think of anything other than how starving I am, the smell of smoked meat and fried potatoes waking up a new, animalistic hunger. I haven’t eaten much since finding out I was pregnant, and then Sienna washed up and killed whatever was left of my appetite. Now my stomach is so empty it’s howling.

Paul and I inhale our food, washing everything down with icy soda that chills me to the bone. The sun dipped behind the trees hours ago, and the temperature soon followed, nose-diving to somewhere in the midforties. One last weekend of sunshine before the rain moves in. I pull my coat tight around my body and shiver.

“I need to ask you something, and I need for you to tell me the truth.” Paul glances around, but our picnic table might as well be an island. Nobody wants to sit close enough to us to overhear. Still, he leans in, lowering his voice. “Are you afraid of me?”

No. The answer sounds in my mind, immediate and clear, but the word sticks to my tongue because I’m not entirely sure it’s the truth. When Paul lied, when he left on this crazy errand to Balsam Bluff, I wanted so desperately to believe in him that I made excuses for his behavior. But now, with the information I have today, I see the flaws in my thinking. This is a man who looked into a police officer’s eyes and lied, and convincingly. Who’s to say he isn’t doing the same with me?

So am I afraid of him? Maybe.

Paul nods. Looks away. “That’s fair. If I were sitting where you’re sitting, I’d be scared of me, too.” His gaze wanders back to mine. “But I swear to you, Charlotte, on my life and the life of our unborn child, I didn’t touch Sienna.”

“Why did Jax want to talk to you?”

“He needed some cash, a few supplies. I swear to you, it wasn’t anything more than that.” I roll my eyes, and he reaches across the empty baskets and wrappers for my hand. “You have no reason to believe me. I get that. But it’s the honest to God truth.”