On the bridge, Niki helped Lila out of her harness, and another officer brought a blanket from her squad car to wrap around Lila’s shoulders. They were treating her like a victim, like someone they had pulled out of a burning house, but she didn’t feel like a victim. She could still see his face as he fought to breathe. The elation of watching him fall to the river still pulsed in her veins. She felt nothing like a victim.

A third detective joined them on the bridge, a man named Voss whom Lila had met when they were working out the details of the plan. He handed a green folder to Niki.

“He dumped this in a trash can on the skyway,” Voss said.

Lila didn’t get to watch them fish Gavin’s body from the river. Instead, they took her to the Homicide office in City Hall, where she listened to the recording of her confrontation, filling in those words that had been lost behind the rustle of her clothing. As she worked with Niki on the transcript, Matty dug through the green folder, inspecting the pages one at a time. As Lila was finishing her account, Matty lifted the hidden SIM card into the air.

In the moment of silence that followed, Matty and Niki must have formed the same thought, because they both reached for their phones and opened their SIM card trays to try and slide it in. It didn’t fit. Lila laid her phone on the table and Niki popped it open, fitting the card into place. A few taps on the screen and she said, “Two text messages sent to a single number. Nothing else.”

Lila leaned in for a peek and saw the phone number—and recognized it.

*  *  *

At six o’clock on a dreary Thursday evening, Lila Nash knocked on Sylvie Dubois’s door, a microphone once again tucked beneath her clothing. In those few seconds as she waited for Sylvie to answer, Lila contemplated the truth she now knew, the one that broke her heart. Lila watched through a small window in the door as Sylvie approached, padding her way as if this were just another day and the knock at the door just another visitor.

When Sylvie saw Lila, she paused, one hand on the knob, but then opened the door and said, “What are you doing here?”

Lila looked into Sylvie’s angry eyes and struggled to find words, as though the axe she brought to destroy her friend’s world had suddenly become too heavy to swing. Finally, she managed to say, “Is John here?”

“No, and you need to go.”

Sylvie started to close the door, so Lila blurted out the one thing that she knew would stop her. “Gavin Spencer’s dead.”

Sylvie tried to hide her shock, but failed. “Who’s Gavin—?”