Fat tears rolled down Muntz’s cheeks. His face, neck, every inch of exposed skin glistened in the hoary moonlight that filtered in through the shoebox-sized window. “He came to the shop I was working at … twenty years ago. Needed to get rid of this Porsche, a classic, 1978 Widowmaker. He wanted to sell it for parts.” He bit his lip, fighting back a whimper as Persephone began to coil around his leg. “My buddy, Dez, noticed a pair of panties on the floor by the passenger seat, and a training bra, like, for a younger girl.” He writhed as the snake tightened. The zip ties cut into his wrists. “Dez threatened to call the cops, turn him in for child molesting. We both knew who he was. I mean, Clive Reynolds was the only guy rich enough within a thousand-mile radius to own a Porsche 930 Turbo, and his brother was never far from him. Classic coattail rider. So, Dez made him a deal. He wouldn’t tell if Chris left him the car. He’d have sold it out of state, I’m sure, made a mint.” He sighed, hot air and phlegm rattling in his throat.

“I take it Chris didn’t like the ultimatum,” said Kole.

Muntz shook his head slowly. His eyes glazed over as if he’d slipped into a trance. He opened his mouth, but his words hung suspended for a moment, his memories from one single day twenty years ago coming back together. Hudson had no doubt it was the first time he’d recounted it out loud. “He snapped,” he said, finally. “It was like the devil suddenly possessed him. His eyes … they were dark and bright at the same time. He grabbed a torque wrench from the bench and bashed Dez’s skull in. He hit the floor like a ton of bricks. Blood sprayed everywhere.”

Hudson glanced from Muntz to Kole. The sergeant didn’t move, didn’t breathe, even, as though he feared the slightest sound would cause Muntz to stop talking.

Muntz squeezed his eyes shut again as Persephone made a ripple under the blanket.

“Then what?” Kole dared, when Muntz went mute for thirty seconds. The silence pulsed. “Ronald?”

“He told me to make it all disappear,” Muntz blurted. “The car, the wrench, the blood. He said if I didn’t, he’d tell police I killed Dez. Because who would they believe?” His eyes were wild as he regarded each of them in turn. “A poor kid like me who had a few misdemeanors on his record, or him? So, I waited ’til dark and drove it into the lake. Turned off the lights. Launched it right off the pier.” He sighed. His jaw tensed. “I let the car sink all the way to the bottom, waited until it was fully submerged. Then I climbed out the window and swam for my fucking life.” His whole body was racked by sobs as the repressed terrors of that day came flooding back.