“Your wife couldn’t return here anymore, Mr. Wooldridge. It stopped being a place she loved. It stopped being a place she felt safe. She stopped feeling that way…”

“…because I wouldn’t let her go.”

“Yes. And when Jimmy found out it happened, that’s when he decided to help her go. To help her end her own life.”

Wooldridge began keening again, head to desk.

“I think we need to let him be,” Trimble said.

Langdon shook her head. “We need to know about James Albert. We need to know where he is.”

Trimble looked uncertain. “I think we need a lawyer for this part.”

“Mr. Trimble, we already know everything. Get the lawyer if you need to. You probably will need to. But right now, I’m not really concerned about putting Mr. Wooldridge behind bars. I’m concerned about finding Jimmy Albert.”

Trimble looked uncertain. I was beginning to understand this was his default. I turned my attention to Wooldridge. “Mr. Wooldridge, listen to me,” I said. “Now you know that Jimmy didn’t kill your wife. You were right. The odds were impossible. He didn’t fail. He helped your wife. I know you had your reasons for being angry at Jimmy. But you heard Elaine. If you’re hurting him, you’re hurting her. And Jimmy has a wife of his own. Someone who loves him as much as you loved Elaine. Someone who wants him home. By her side. Tell me where he is so he can go home to her.”

Wooldridge muttered something.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Kenosha,” Wooldridge repeated, more audibly.

Trimble started coming around the desk toward me and Langdon. “Okay. We really are going to need a lawyer now.”

“Shut up, Garrett,” Wooldridge said, for the second time that evening. For the second time, Trimble shut up. “It’s over.” He turned his attention to me and Langdon. “We have a summer house in Kenosha. Elaine and I would take the boat up there, and we would have the kids and grandkids there. The basement level is a playroom for the kids and includes a couple of bedrooms. It’s all soundproofed so the kids could be as loud as they wanted and up late as they wanted and everyone else could get to sleep. No one’s using it this time of year. It’s sealed up.”

“That’s where Jimmy Albert is,” Langdon prompted.

“Yes. That’s where he is. In one of the bedrooms. Tied up. Left to die. He’s there. Go get him.” Langdon nodded, stood up, picked her phone up off the desk and started making calls.

I nodded to Wooldridge. “Thank you.”

Wooldridge gave me a sour look. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my wife. But you can do something for me.”

“Yes, sir.”