“The killer was still there,” he said. “Sitting calmly on the couch, holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. The gun was pointed at Brad. The knife was soaked in blood. He recognized it as the knife he used in the bar—you know, for cutting fruit garnishes for the drinks? The killer told Brad he had two choices. Take the kid and get as far away from Eagle Rock as possible, and never speak of what happened. Or get a bullet in the brain, before the kid died the same way the mother had, with Brad’s knife and his prints all over it left at the scene.”

“Christ,” Jessica whispered. “All those years, he knew who killed Eleanor? Who was it?”

Pryce shook his head. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me, and he wouldn’t tell the couple who’d helped him either. He said it would be safer for us all if we never knew. I begged him—told him I’d go and arrest this guy’s ass and back Brad one hundred percent with the knife thing. But he wouldn’t listen. He was terrified this lunatic would come after you.”

Jessica was stunned. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You think he was telling you the truth?” she asked. “You’re sure he didn’t kill Eleanor himself?”

“As sure as I can be without actually being there. I told you we were like brothers. Brad was a good guy. He didn’t have it in him to kill someone.”

“But you’d drifted apart. You said as much yourself. Maybe he’d changed.”

“No chance,” Pryce said firmly. “You seriously think I’d risk everything to help Brad if I thought for even one second he was capable of murder? Think about it. I’m not just talking about my badge; I’m talking about my own ass being thrown in jail if anyone ever found out what I did. That gangbanger I told you about? The guy was killed in a drive-by shooting six months later, and you know how I felt when I heard the news? Relieved, that’s what. I no longer had to live with the constant worry he would call in a favor one day. So, yeah, that’s how sure I was of Brad’s innocence.”

“The counterfeit IDs. Paper tripping?”

Pryce nodded.