Tim tipped back his head to look up at the dusty ceiling tiles above us. “So what’s the link to Swanton there?”

I knew the answer before he got the question out, couldn’t believe it had taken me so long. “Brett was a gambler. He used to drive to Montreal and blow his paycheck at the casino. Everyone knew he did it—family, coworkers—except according to Russell Loming, he quit when they met some shady characters up there and got involved in dealing drugs close to home.” I shook my head. “Abe must have known what was going on, that the gambling became a cover for drug trafficking.”

An idea took shape in my mind. “The drugs. Maybe the killer was connected to Brett through drugs.”

“So who are our suspects?” asked Tim.

“Loming. He’s top of the list,” I said, but when I did a mental about-face, I found myself looking at Felicia. “You were right before, we can’t dismiss my aunt just yet, but I don’t know what, if anything, she has to do with Brett’s drug dealing. And there are two other people Brett was with that night whom I still haven’t identified. One is the teenage girl seen with Brett in his car, the other is the boy Loming dealt drugs to at the drive-in right before Brett and Crissy went AWOL.” A lump formed in my throat as I said it.

Tim was picking at the label on his beer. “Listen, don’t slug me. Are you sure we can rule out Doug?”

I’d been doing everything in my power to avoid it, but now the image of my brother’s face jostled for attention, the aggression I’d seen toward Abe—and, by proxy, Brett—terrible and real. I was closer to reconstructing the events that transpired the night Brett and Crissy disappeared, but there were still some cavernous gaps. What happened after Doug drove home to get Mom? Where did the meth in Crissy’s bloodstream come from? Did Doug really not know what became of my cousin and uncle that night?

“He withheld evidence,” Tim said gently. “Not just back then, but now. From you.”

“He was trying to help Crissy.”

“He’s been sitting on a critical component of the case. You know as well as I do that can be a sign of guilt.”

“He didn’t know how much it mattered. It’s not his fault.”

To that, Tim had no reply. Ask Doug had been my lifelong refrain. He was a master at summoning my memories, and I’d always considered the way he alloyed our recollections to be a form of magic. I couldn’t count on his help anymore. He’d concealed so much, and his secrecy left me feeling both betrayed and afraid.

Tim was right; there was no excuse for Doug’s behavior. The timeline of that night stood out hot and bright in my mind, and anyone could see he’d been involved in a crime, if only by omission. Whether it was against Brett or Crissy, and exactly how he factored in, I didn’t know. I owed it to our victim to find out, but that would mean admitting the possibility of something I couldn’t bear to be true.