Jessie looked at him, unsure what to make of his reaction. She thought for certain he’d be screaming at her by now.

“I’m sorry?” she asked more than said.

Dolan chuckled at her confusion.

“He was not this calm on the way over,” he said, speaking for the first time since his arrival. “I didn’t even know marshals were allowed to talk the way he did.”

Murph glared at him but said nothing.

“Listen,” Jessie said, knowing some kind of explanation was in order. “I know I shouldn’t have just left. But once I realized Gayle was our killer, I saw a way to get her come clean. But I knew she’d never do it if I had all of you around. I had to appeal to her sense of being wronged, of being ignored. I never could have gotten her to that place with all of you in the room.”

“We could have waited outside,” Dolan said unconvincingly.

Jessie raised her eyebrows.

“Right,” she said dismissively, “like you would have agreed to sit out an interview with a murder suspect because I asked politely. And there is no way the marshal over there would have consented to wait elsewhere while I questioned a person who had just stabbed someone in the throat with keys.”

“From what I could tell,” Murph said quietly, “it looked like you could have used a bit of backup with Mr. Jerebko. I’m assuming he wasn’t working on his stance with that driver at his feet.”

“I had it under control,” Jessie replied, not wanting to say too much about that particular moment.

“Obviously,” he said.

Jessie genuinely couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not.

“So are we cool?” she asked.

“That’s not how I would describe it,” Murph said slowly. “But if you can promise me that you won’t ever do something like that again, we can move past it. There are still two serial killers out there looking for you.”

She nodded without a word, deciding now wasn’t the ideal time to mention that Bolton Crutchfield had been waiting for her at the house.

The officers were escorting Gayle out of the house and into the back of a black-and-white. Jessie and the others followed. Out front, she saw the unmarked vehicle she’d used to get here.

“Don’t sweat that,” Dolan said, reading her mind. “Decker’s sending someone to pick up the car. There’s no way he’s letting you drive yourself back. You’re back to sharing the backseat in the marshal car with me.”

They all walked over to get in. As she opened the door, Jessie glanced back in the direction where she’d seen Crutchfield earlier. The last vestiges of dusky light were almost gone and the tree he’d been standing next to was barely visible.

Some of the leafy branches blew gently in the evening breeze and for a second she thought she saw movement from something else, something human. But it was only a shadow caused by a cloud moving through the moonlight.