“Oh, nothing much.” My father sat across the table. “Only that you’ve been involved with an older woman of dubious morals, and that he found you, once, half-dressed in her home. That said woman is considered missing, possibly abducted. That you know more about Tyra than you’re letting on, and more about Jason, too, that brothers are brothers, and genes will tell.” My father sat across the table. “Martinez doesn’t like me very much.”

I had no idea what to say. I didn’t even try.

“Let’s talk about Sara.” He gave a keen-eyed look I didn’t much like.

“Burklow told you what happened?”

“That you entered Sara’s home illegally? That you’re the one who found her gone? You should have come to me, son. Are you really that angry with me?”

I stayed quiet again. I didn’t want to answer.

“Listen, Martinez and Smith may be ahead of the curve on this, but they’re not on the wrong road. Any cop would look at you sideways right now. That means you need to talk to me. I need to know everything you know. It’s how I stay ahead of this. Son, look at me. Do you understand the stakes involved?”

“I didn’t hurt anybody.”

“That’s childish thinking. Martinez can ruin your life without convicting you, or even charging you. He can hold you, interrogate you, destroy you in the press.” He turned the beer bottle in his heavy fingers. “Chance said you dropped him off at two o’clock. That was seven hours ago. I want to know where you went afterward, who you were with, and what you were doing.”

My time with Becky made an answer to that question impossible. “Ask a different question.”

“Let’s start with Sara, then. Have you been sexually active?”

“Is that your business?”

“Martinez will ask, so I need to know.”

“No,” I replied coldly. “No sex with Sara.”

“But you’ve been in her condominium.”

“Yes.”

“Her bedroom?”

I looked away.

“Son, I need to know what you touched, when you were there, who saw you there. So let’s try this again. Have you been in Sara’s bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was worried. I went upstairs to check on her.”

“What did you touch? What did you see?”

I told him the same story I’d told his partner.

“What about Tyra Norris?” he asked. “Have you been in her bedroom?”

It went like that for ten minutes. An interrogation. Round and round. Backtracking. Checking for inconsistencies. “When you were with Sara, where would you go?”

“Her place. The car. We didn’t spend that much time together.”

“Were you ever alone with Tyra?”

“No.”

“In her room?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“What about her car?”

“No.”

“Chance mentioned a girl named Becky Collins. Is that who you were with today?”

“What if I was?”

“Does she know you were involved with Sara?”

“No.”