I shake my head. “So, what are you saying exactly?” I ask.

“Nicky never hurt anyone. And he certainly would never hurt David, his best friend. He even took a bullet for him.”

My mouth nearly drops open.

“Nicky is as loyal as people get. There’s no way he would ever do anything like that let alone for something as stupid as a bit of money.”

I sit back in my seat taking in everything that he has just said. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle all come together in one moment. I realize that I had known the real Nicholas Crawford all along. I thought I needed facts in order to prove what my intuition told me but now it’s nothing but a confirmation.

“But how do you know for sure?” I ask, still searching for something that resembles proof.

Ricky waits for a moment. “He was with me the night that it happened,” he says slowly.

I furrow my brows and wait for him to continue.

“I knocked off a liquor store and the cops were after me. Nicky hid me. I didn’t know they did that job until later.”

I lick my lips and pick at the fabric around the steering wheel.

“But how could you know he didn’t kill him before you called or after?” I ask. I believe him but my rational mind is looking for details that the prosecution definitely will.

“David’s body was found at six a.m. in the marsh by a dog walker. Nicky was with me from six the previous night.”

I nod, still looking for loopholes. I try to remember what I read about decomposition science and how inaccurate and imprecise it can be given the cold and other conditions. When I bring this up, Ricky just shakes his head.

“None of that matters,” Ricky says. “I was with him and I was there when he heard the news of David’s death. I saw him break down and that’s when I knew for sure that he had nothing to do with it.”

I swallow hard.

“I’ve never seen him that distraught,” Ricky continues. “He kept sobbing and just asking why over and over again.”

Ricky looks away from me and out at the bright yellow moon hovering in the distance.

“He just kept saying, ‘It was just money. Why would anyone kill him over money?’ What Nicky never got was that money is the main reason why people kill anyone.”

We sit in silence for a while, not so much enjoying each other’s company but rather just tolerating it. I turn up the heat but it doesn’t really warm me up no matter how much the hot air blasts in my face. Ricky reaches over and closes the vents on his side of the car.

“What do I do now?” I ask. “Why is the FBI blaming Nicholas?”

Ricky shrugs.