“I need to go, Detective. I need to check on my family.”

Rountree reached into her pocket and brought out an iPhone. She held it in the space between us.

For a second I thought it was Jennifer’s. Recovered from where Blake had ditched it.

But it wasn’t the right color. This was Rountree’s phone.

“I could take your photo,” she said. “Snap it right here and show it to our witness. I know you like Instagram. Which filter would you like? Crema? Juno? Hashtag no filter?”

I held her gaze. Steady. Unwavering. No blinks.

She lowered the phone.

“But we don’t really need that. I can easily find a photo of you online to show our witness. I’m talking to him again today. I trust you’re not leaving the area anytime soon, are you?”

“I’m not.”

The two uniformed officers came out of Blake’s house, and once they walked past, Rountree followed them.

“Good day, Mr. Francis. Do your best to make it a good day.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

I sat back in the driver’s seat of my car.

Sweat—a river of it—still poured down my back, making my shirt stick to my skin like flypaper. I took short, sharp breaths, trying to get air into my lungs.

A witness. The dog walker. He had seen me. Rountree was going to show him my photo.

And I’d invoked a lawyer. I looked guilty as hell.

And I was.

My phone buzzed. Amanda.

Call me when you get the chance.

And then:

Call me.

And then:

Ryan, where are you?

I called, but she didn’t answer. I let the phone ring for a while, hung up, and tried again. Still no response. I checked the time on the phone. Almost nine on a Friday morning. She gave Henry a bath around nine. I pictured her up to her elbows in sudsy water with a wet, squirming infant in her hands. She wouldn’t answer.

And I’d told her to head out, to go to her parents with Henry. She might have been packing to do that. Or she might have been on her way, driving and not responding. Even with the Bluetooth in the car, Amanda refused to talk on the phone when she was driving Henry somewhere.

As Rountree had told them to, the two uniformed cops remained parked on the street, observing Blake’s house. I felt certain they were observing me, wondering why I hadn’t driven off like Rountree. I didn’t need any more trouble with them, so I started the car and drove off, out of the neighborhood and away from the prying, curious eyes of the police.