"You do have a license, don't you?" Betsy asked.

Neil had a couple, but none had his current name on it. "Yes."

"Do you know the way back or will you follow?"

"You go ahead," Neil said, taking the key at last. "I have to get Andrew's knives."

"I'll wait here," Betsy said.

It was the answer Neil expected, if not the one he wanted, and he didn't waste time arguing with her. He crossed the lawn to the front door and pressed the doorbell. It took three tries before he finally heard movement on the other side of the door. Maria opened the door just wide enough for Neil to see half of her face. Neil didn't know if guilt made her defensive or if she expected some sort of violent retribution, but he didn't have the energy to deal with her stonewalling him. He hooked a hand around the door so she couldn't slam it without breaking his fingers and wedged his shoe into the crack as far as he could.

"Let me in," Neil said. "We left something here yesterday."

"I will get it for you," Maria said. "Tell me where to find it."

"In the bed you made for your own nephew," Neil said.

Maria flinched so hard she almost yanked the door shut. Before Neil had to fight his way in she let go of the knob and backed out of his way. She retreated well out of reach and wrapped her arms tight around her middle like she could squeeze herself into nothingness. Neil strode past her and went upstairs. Luther was nowhere in sight. Neil hoped he was behind bars somewhere.

He'd broken the bedroom door last night, and the arrival of techs and emergency workers had only worsened the damage. The door was ajar by several inches this morning, but someone had thought to tape a blanket to the doorframe like a makeshift curtain. Neil yanked it down so Luther and Maria would have to fix it again and tossed it off to one side. The door groaned when he pushed it open, and he flicked on the light.

Neil wasn't a stranger to death and he wasn't fazed by the sight of blood, but one glimpse at the rumpled bed gave him pause. The sheets were gone, but the mattress was stained a blackish red where Drake had bled. The paint and window curtains were still splattered in places. Neil looked at the headboard like he'd see Andrew's fingerprints engraved in the wood and swallowed hard against a dizzying nausea. He breathed through his mouth as he crossed the room to the bed.