Once again Kyle leaned against the counter, his fingers splayed against the granite surface. “See, he came on all strong with her and then just dropped her when he went back to this other woman he’d already been involved with. He was careless with Jen’s feelings.”

I nodded, picturing Samantha in my mind. Did Sam even know Jennifer had ever existed?

“But he wouldn’t stop,” Kyle said.

“Stop what?”

“Calling her. Texting her. He kept her on the line, almost like he was afraid something wouldn’t work out and he’d need a backup plan.” He straightened up, lifting his hands from the counter.

I thought he was going to pour another drink, but he didn’t. He ran both of his hands back and forth across his face, pulling against the skin until it stretched, his mouth forming a wide O. When he spoke again, he wasn’t looking at me. He stared at the kitchen cabinets as though something important was being reflected back at him from their surface.

“Jennifer is strong. She worked with prisoners, ex-cons. She always said she was a sucker for a hard-luck case. She liked to help people who needed it. Give them second and third chances. Maybe that’s why she liked me. But even strong people get hurt and feel vulnerable. You have to understand that.” His voice became lower. “She’s like anyone else. She wanted someone to care for her. We all do.”

When I first showed up, I’d hoped to find Blake or, short of that, some idea about where he was. When I found Kyle instead, I hoped he’d have something useful to share with me. But here stood a man with a broken heart, a man who seemed less tethered to reality than even Blake. He said he’d just gone by Jennifer’s house and driven away when he saw the police and the coroner. But did I really know what he might have had to do with her death?

Her murder, I reminded myself, trying to get used to the fact that word had become a part of my life.

Murder.

“I think I need to move on,” I said. “I’m going to see if I can talk to some friends. Maybe someone else has heard from Blake.”

“Do the cops suspect you?” Kyle asked, still not looking over at me. Still staring at the cabinets.

His question hit me with the force of a hurricane.

Did they? Was I a suspect?

Kyle went on. “You said they talked to you because you knew Jennifer. You had business dealings or whatever. Do they suspect you? Did you have to give an alibi and all that?”

“I did. I kind of assume cops think everyone is a suspect until they find out who the guilty party really is. They start with the people closest to the . . . victim and work their way out.”