“I didn’t,” I said. “That I can promise you.”

She looked around the room one more time, taking it all in.

“Well, if you hear from either one of the lovebirds, you’ll let me know, Ryan. It’s very important that things not get held back in a case like this. You never know what detail could tip the scales the way we want them to go. We’re talking to all the neighbors over by Ms. Bates’s, anyone who might have seen something. We’ll talk to your neighbors too about that possible prowler. More people are awake now. Who knows who saw something?”

She didn’t wait for me to respond before she slipped out the door and back to her car.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I went out to the kitchen after Rountree left. The news she’d brought—Blake was nowhere to be found, the cops knew he’d been at Jennifer’s house and the two of them had argued while he was there—left me shaken almost as much as the events of the day before. Her words clouded my mind as though I’d taken a blow to the head, one that left me dizzy and slightly incoherent. It took effort to move my legs, I was so thrown by them.

Amanda had Henry back in his high chair, and she was spooning applesauce into his mouth. He greedily gummed it, his jaws moving like those of a wizened old man. She put the spoon aside, wiped her hands on a napkin, and started texting someone. The message whooshed away, and then she looked up at me.

“Who are you writing to?” I asked.

“Sam. I want to let her know what’s going on. That the cops are looking for Blake and they want to talk to her too. She has a right to know all of this. If she knew, she’d do something about it.”

“Have you heard from her at all today?” I asked.

“That’s the first time I wrote. I haven’t heard from her in a week or so.” She picked up the spoon again and fed Henry more. “It’s been a little awkward since the thing with Blake and Henry. But she’s not a bridge burner. We keep up with each other. We keep trying to get together, but stuff comes up.”

“Has she mentioned anything about Blake? Any trouble?”

“Not to me.” She wiped her hands again. “What did you think of all that the cop told us?”

“I don’t know. I can’t conceive of Blake murdering someone. I just can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“Amanda, we’re talking about murder. Not being a jackass. Or bumping a baby’s head against a lampshade.”

“That’s your baby he did that to.”

“Our baby. And it was an accident. Not attempted infanticide.”