In all of those years since me and Henry left the farm, I had reshaped and remolded and reinvented myself to please other people so many times, I’d entirely lost touch with the woman I started out as. I’d been living for other people, every single hour of every single day, for more than half my life.

When it all boiled down, I didn’t think twice about blowing up my life because I didn’t value it. The only life I’d ever loved was the one I’d lost.

I was unraveling in that interrogation room, my perspective shifting and twisting until it felt as though layers were coming away. I never wanted to be a suburban housewife, bored out of my brain, tolerating petty gossip and begging my friends for a chance to plant their gardens. That life was fine for other people, but I had always known what I wanted for myself, and this was never it.

I wanted to help my brother, but constantly trying to protect him from his own mistakes was only hurting him in the long run. He needed to face the consequences this time. I’d fight for him and I’d advocate for him. I’d do whatever it took to find the right treatment for him.

But I could not let him hide from the truth.

I’d finally seen in my own life how much damage that could cause.

Calvin entered the room a few minutes later. He pulled the chair out and sat opposite me, staring into my eyes.

“Lizzie,” he whispered brokenly. “What on earth is going on?”

“Cal,” I said quietly, and then I squeezed my eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I’ve made an awful mess.”

Calvin arranged a lawyer for me, and with his help, I told the police what really happened. Then we waited at the station until word came that Henry had been safely arrested in Nashville. They told me he was emotional but went willingly as they took him in. About the same time, Tucker told us that Jürgen Rhodes made it through surgery.

“He’s still very unwell,” he said quietly. “The doctor told me this could still go either way, but this is a start.”

Henry was being taken to a facility in Birmingham for the night, and a hearing would be held in the morning. Calvin and I would get up early and travel over to the courthouse so we could support him. The lawyer expected that, for the short term, Henry would be committed, and in the longer term, he’d face trial. I only hoped Henry would forgive me—not for telling the police the truth, but for not getting him help sooner.