“Let me understand this. You think because I sued the hospital and lost that I killed someone?”

Pretty much, but Matt didn’t say that. “Not you specifically, but one of the accident survivors—the dates aren’t a coincidence.”

“I haven’t killed anyone, I promise you that.”

“The lawsuit? Were you disappointed at the result?”

“I haven’t thought about it in a long time. It wasn’t even my idea. I don’t really remember much of anything that year, to be honest. But my uncle insisted, and I just went along with it. I can’t even tell you who we sued or why. That was the worst night of my life. I woke up and I just knew my whole family was dead. My parents. My little sister. And I thought, why me? Why me?” His voice trailed off and he looked at something next to his computer, then refocused on Matt. “I really don’t know how I can help you. I’ve never killed anyone—I can’t even imagine it. Maybe if someone broke into my house and threatened my wife, my kids? Even then... I’d defend my family and try to talk them out of it. Or give them what they wanted before I even thought about fighting back. I don’t even own a gun.”

“I have to ask, just to check the boxes, but have you ever traveled to Portland, Oregon.”

“I don’t think so. Maybe as a kid, we once went on a road trip down the coast all the way to Los Angeles. I was twelve or thirteen. But I don’t really remember.”

“You went to Spokane High?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you know the high school principal, a John Marston?”

“Big black guy? Yeah, I remember him. He was actually really cool to me after the accident. He came over to my uncle’s, where I was living, and we worked out a study at home plan. Both my legs were broken, and I didn’t want to go back to school and talk to anyone about what happened. I was depressed and miserable and my uncle was all focused on getting the money. He didn’t mean anything bad by it—he lost his sister after all and he thought I deserved something. My mom and uncle were really close. He was angry, and I guess sometimes people need someone to blame when bad things happen. That accident was no one’s fault, really. It was an awful night. Sleet. People were driving carefully, but someone spun out on black ice, and someone else hit them, and there were big rigs and everyone was sliding. Anyway, I might never have gone back to school, except that Mr. Marston convinced me to return for my senior year, said it would be good for me. He was right. I ended up with a scholarship to Boston College, and that was really the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Did you know Mr. Marston was murdered three years ago?”

“Murdered?” The expression on McCafferty’s face was shock. “That’s awful. What happened?”