"Drake attacking Andrew," Neil said. It was the truth, but it felt like a lie as it rolled off his tongue. Three words were a pathetic description of what he'd walked in on. "I was off-balance from kicking in the door, so Aaron was faster than I was. He caught Drake right here." He touched his head where his racquet had shattered Drake's skull. "It was a heavy, so it only took one hit. If Andrew gave you the p-card, that means the police are keeping my racquet, aren't they?"

"Would you want it back?" Betsy asked.

"Do you have any idea how much it cost?" Neil asked. "Yes, I want it back."

"It wouldn't bother you that it was used as a murder weapon?"

"It didn't kill anyone important."

"Interesting," Betsy said, but she didn't elaborate until she'd pulled into a department store parking lot. This early on a workday, it was easy to get a spot near the door. She took the key from the ignition, turned off her GPS, and looked at Neil. "Drake's crimes aside, he met a violent end only a few feet from you. It would be natural and completely understandable if you felt some sort of shock or grief."

The smart thing to do was lie, but every time Neil blinked he saw Andrew's white-knuckled grip on the headboard. He could still hear Andrew's laughter, muffled by the pillow. If he could reach inside his head and claw the memory out he would, but he couldn't. All he could do was lash out at Betsy. She wasn't the shrink who'd put Andrew on this medication two and a half years ago but she was the only one close enough to hit.

"I don't," Neil said flatly. "And you know what? Neither does Andrew."

He wanted her to defend herself. He wanted to see her try to justify any of this. His father's temper was hot in his veins, raging for an outlet. The only response he got, though, was a calm, "Did you ask him?"

"Did I ask him?" Neil repeated, disbelieving. "He said he can't feel. You saw him smiling last night. Did you hear him—" Neil gave a vicious jerk of his hand, willing himself to shut up before he said too much, and levered himself out of the car. He slammed the door behind himself, but of course Betsy was getting out on the other side. Neil attempted to cut her off with, "We're not talking about this."

"You can't choke back on everything forever," Betsy said. "You need an outlet, whether it's with me or David or your teammates."

"I don't need anyone."

"Would you at least like one of us to contact your parents?"

"No," Neil said, and started for the door.