Deputy Prince said, “Lucas was on the phone with the 9-1-1 dispatch trying to save her life. The paramedics said you did everything you could. I know this is difficult, but you tried, which is more than I can say for some people.”

Prince asked her, “Ms. Merritt, did you know Ms. James?”

“I met her once. I wouldn’t say I knew her.”

“Can I get your contact information in case the detective has questions?”

She gave the deputy her info, and then Lucas asked Prince, “Can I go home?”

“Yes, you’re free to leave.”

Lucas walked over to his truck; Regan followed. “Lucas, why’d you come out here? Wasn’t I just telling you not three hours ago that you needed to be cautious?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

She tried to look at the situation from his point of view. “So explain?”

“I thought I could just talk to her. Convince her to come on the podcast.”

He handed her a crumbled note. She read it. “You were going to leave her this?”

“I didn’t know if she was home. She didn’t answer the front door when I rang the bell, but I saw her car in the carport. I thought I’d leave the note on the windshield.”

“What information were you going to share?”

“Everything. All the research I’ve done, the facts of the case, the anonymous letter. I wanted to push her about what they were arguing about. I thought—maybe if I told her why I was so invested in Candace’s murder, that she might be willing to help.”

Regan hesitated. There was something odd about Lucas’s tone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She was about to ask why he was invested in Candace’s murder, because it sounded like there was more to it than what he’d originally told her.

“It’s my fault,” he said.

“No, Lucas. This isn’t on you.”

“But it looks like she overdosed. There was a needle on the ground. What if she listened to the podcast? What if she did know more like we thought and killed herself on purpose out of guilt? Or...or she was upset and wanted to just get high but took too much? I don’t know, but this is wrong. It’s not fair.”

“Taylor’s choices are her choices, Lucas. Not yours. You can’t be responsible for what other people do. Go home. We’ll talk about this in the morning, at breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called you before I came here.”

“Yes, but I understand. It’s going to be okay.”

Lucas retreated to his truck and drove off.

Regan walked back to Prince as he was writing his report. “Deputy.”

“Are you the US Marshal or the deputy from Maricopa?” he asked. “For my report.”

“Good memory. Former marshal.”