When Darrell and I were back outside, I lit a cigarette. I didn’t like smoking in front of him, because his wife was dealing with lung cancer and he blamed it on her lifelong habit. He’d given it up himself years earlier. Most of the other deputies smoked, and Darrell never said a word to me when I did it, but I felt guilty anyway. Even so, I was exhausted, and my nerves were shattered. The cigarette relaxed me.

“What’s your take on Jay?” Darrell asked.

“I think teenage boys hate the idea of growing up like their fathers, and fathers want their teenage boys to grow up just like them.”

Darrell responded with a low chuckle. “True enough. On the other hand, calling Gordon a monster? That’s an interesting choice of words, given what was on the wall. Almost like he’d seen it for himself.”

I shivered in the cold, my fingers trembling as I held my cigarette. The word rattled around in my head. Monster.

The snow had stopped, but the wind had come up in its wake, throwing silvery clouds around us. We stood near the dark trees that grew in a ring around the clearing. It was winter, and it still wasn’t dawn yet. I did what I always did, what I’d done hundreds of times hiking in the woods since I was ten years old. I listened for the hufffffff that told me the Ursulina was close by.

“You don’t really think Jay killed him, do you?” I asked.

Darrell took a while to reply. “No, I don’t. Then again, what’s my philosophy of life?”

“You never know.”

“Exactly. You never know. Here’s a kid who obviously had a terrible relationship with his father. He was at the house the whole time, so he had plenty of opportunity and no alibi.”

“Bad relationship or not, I can’t see a child doing that to a parent.”

Darrell shrugged. “Lizzie Borden took an ax.”

“So what’s next?”

“Next we talk to Sandra Thoreau. The lawsuit is still the likeliest motive for murdering Brink. We need to find out if anyone on her team has been making noises about going after him. It’s mostly been mischief up to now, but that kind of thing can get out of control fast.”

“Okay.”

I wasn’t done with my cigarette, but I threw it in the snow and stamped it down. I stared into the trees, still expecting a rustling in the branches and the noise of heavy breathing. My mind was awhirl. Everything was catching up to me—the night, the sleeplessness, the cold, the blood. Darrell called my name, but I was distracted and didn’t answer. He reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

“Are you all right?”

I managed a weak smile. “I’m just tired. And I’m fighting a cold. My head’s all congested.”