Gavin knotted his hand into a fist to redirect his anger. He then stated his position in a calm voice. “You will pay the man his two hundred thousand dollars. You owe it to me, so stop interfering and do what I tell you to. Okay?”

Gavin watched as the words, and the unspoken understanding behind them, slapped his mother in the face.

“You don’t have to get that way, honey. I just want the best for you. We can afford any lawyer you want. But if he’s the one…I’ll cut him a check. I just want to make sure you walk out of here when this is all done. You’re my baby.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, Mother. They can’t convict me if I didn’t do anything.”

“But why do they think it was you? How could they think—?”

“It’s a case of mistaken identity. Some girl picked me out of a lineup, but it’s not true. You’ll see. They don’t have anything—no DNA, no witnesses, nothing—because I didn’t do it.”

“They have that girl. Ain’t she a witness?”

“It’s her word against mine, and she’s lying.”

“The paper said you met her at a wedding.” The detectives had no evidence that Gavin had actually met Sadie, but Amy threw it out there anyway. She was a dullard that way.

“I was the photographer. She must have confused me with someone else.”

“They came and talked to me—a Mexican and a little Asian woman.”

Gavin expected this. In those stagnant hours, as he’d waited for the detectives to show up, he had contemplated calling his mother to warn her. He didn’t, because she would undoubtedly let it slip that he had warned her. And if she had done that, they would argue to a jury that the phone call showed a consciousness of guilt. How would Gavin Spencer know that detectives were on their way if he hadn’t done anything wrong?

“What did you tell them?” he asked. “And remember, they’re recording what you say here.” Gavin hated that he had to remind her not to be stupid.

“They asked me where you were Monday night. I told them I didn’t know.”

“Because you don’t know.”

“Maybe you called me from home, and I can tell them that—”

“But I didn’t call you, did I?”

“No.”

“And if you told them that I did, all they would have to do is check your phone records and see that you were lying. Don’t add. Don’t improvise.”

“They asked if I knew when you shaved your head. I said I didn’t know. Why’d you cut your hair? You had such beautiful hair.”

“For God’s sake, Mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What else did they ask?”