“Why, because trying to conceal what was at the bottom of Pitts Cove isn’t evidence enough?” A string of thunderous claps shakes the Civic down to the tires, and Sam pauses long enough to let it pass. “But okay, here’s what I know. I know Jax showing up on your back deck is a regular occurrence, once about every six or seven days. I know that his visits usually last somewhere between twenty to thirty minutes, and that by the time Jax leaves he’s showered and fed and wearing clean clothes. I know Paul never lets Jax leave without giving him a prepay card, which he pays for on the company AmEx. I know these visits are friendly and usually end in a hug.”

I stare out the slice of road lit up by my headlights, the way it goes blurry between swipes of the windshield wipers. “How do you know all that?”

“The cameras on the back of the house. You mailed me the log-ins, remember? They only go back sixty days, but there were enough of them for me to see all that. The prepay cards I heard about from a couple of cashiers in town. Apparently, Paul buys ’em in bulk.”

Sam gives me a moment for the message to sink in. Paul has been in touch with Jax all these years. He’s brought him food and clothes and a cell phone. He’s looked after him. I think of Jax stepping onto the back deck in Paul’s boots, the acres and acres of land he bought up around Pitts Cove, that time he made me ring him up for an expensive prepay card I assumed he wouldn’t use—and he didn’t. He tucked it in a pair of his old boots and gave them both to Jax.

It’s not some nefarious scheme to bury old bones, Paul said when I asked him about Pitts Cove, and I wasn’t sure I believed him.

Staying silent about a crime is a crime. If Paul knew Jax was somehow responsible for Bobby’s death, then he’s spent the past twenty years helping a man stay quiet about another man’s death, which in my book can’t be explained away. Jax should have reported it the second he popped to the surface, and Paul should have the second Jax ran blubbering to him.

“Where are you?” Sam says into my ear, and I almost drop the phone. I’d forgotten he was there, waiting on the other end of the line.

“Heading to town to find Chet.”

“Okay, well, be careful, and maybe lie low for a day or two, will you? Something’s not right here, and I’m still puzzling out what it is. My gut tells me everything’s connected, and that includes Katherine’s death. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got a handle on the situation.”