“We don’t know that it’s Blake,” Amanda said. “We don’t know who it is.”

“But someone died. Someone else is dead because of this.”

I arrived at the entrance of my in-laws’ subdivision, an upper-middle-class enclave with redbrick homes and tidy lawns. My father-in-law, Bill, had worked as a regional manager for a medical supply company. He and his wife were pretty tight-lipped about their financial situation, but judging from the cars they drove, the trips they took, and the size of the house, he’d done well for himself. Amanda had already had to tell them to ease up on the gifts they showered Henry with. He was six months old. New clothes meant little to him. A set of keys or the ribbon from a package occupied him as well as any toy.

I also knew, from Amanda, that her parents had received a nice insurance settlement from the accident that killed her sister, Mallory. Amanda never knew the exact amount, but a fair portion of it had been set aside for her and then for Henry’s education when he was born. Mallory was something of a specter that hung over their house. She was seen—photos on the wall, the occasional old home video—but rarely spoken of. My in-laws tended to be overprotective and worrying, and I always tried to remind myself that parents could easily become that way when they’d lost one of their children.

I couldn’t imagine the private pain both of them carried inside.

And I knew it must have been the same way in the Steiner house.

“I’d call Sam, but how can I reach her if she’s with the police?” Amanda said.

“Text her. Maybe she can get it.”

“But what if . . .”

“Look on Twitter. Is there any news there yet?”

“I’ll check.”

I wound through the subdivision, turning right and then left onto my in-laws’ street.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Not really,” Amanda said.

“Did you tell your parents why you were coming?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “I didn’t need to be bombarded with all their questions. I just said I wanted to visit. I said you were about to get wrapped up in a work project, so I wanted to spend the night. I was hoping things would be resolved before we got there or shortly after. Then I wouldn’t have to tell them the truth. They’ll freak. Any threat, any problem, and they lose it.”

“They’re going to know something’s wrong now,” I said. “They’ll read it on our faces.”

“I know. And it will make them nervous. You know what it’s like if they think something’s wrong with me or Henry.”