“It’s the way he said it. Like he was confirming something, not like he was surprised. I began to worry he wanted to hurt Henry. But then the next break came. A car went down the alley. Slow, the way they have to back there. You could hear the tires over the gravel. The man—Kyle, or whatever his name is—turned to look, almost like he expected trouble.”

“He probably thought it was the cops,” I said.

“Maybe. When he turned and checked out the alley, I took my chance. I pushed on the door, slamming it shut. Then I threw the bolt and ran upstairs. He pounded on the door a few times. I heard him. But when I made it upstairs and picked up the phone, I looked through the window and saw him leaving. He went down the alley in the opposite direction of the car that had just passed. I called you right away.”

When she was finished talking, I realized I may have loosened my clenched fists, but the muscles in my neck were as taut as piano wire. Fear and relief tumbled through me like charged electrons. All I could do was move forward to give Amanda a hug. I folded her in my arms and pulled her close.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m glad you did what you did. You were smart to slam the door and get up to Henry.”

“And your baseball bat was right there in the corner still,” she said, her mouth against my chest. “If he’d come in, I would have taken a few swings. He wasn’t going to get near my baby.”

“He doesn’t know you started at third base in high school.”

“Damn right.”

I let her go, even though I really only wanted to hang on to her.

Sam had moved closer, the tea mug in her right hand. “We have to call the police,” she said. “You heard that. This guy Kyle, he practically confessed. And he’s out there looking for Blake for some reason. We have to call the police.”

She was absolutely right. So I did.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

While we waited for Rountree to arrive, Sam and Amanda talked about the wedding. Where it was being held, what kind of dress she was going to wear. If she was nervous with only one day to go . . .

The conversation felt strained and overly formal, mostly because it seemed so unlikely—at least to me—that any wedding could happen under the circumstances. But we soldiered on, trying our best to ignore the elephant in the room—who the hell had killed Jennifer, and did Blake know something about it? Or was he just a victim of circumstance? Was it Kyle Dornan who had killed Jennifer and put Blake in the crosshairs? Had Kyle hurt Blake as well?