“What did I-?” I began.

“You’re a lying, hypocritical little bitch, Ms. Levine.”

“Whoa!” Adam stepped forward. “I don’t know what you think Savannah did—”

“She came to my house and she pretended to care about that little girl-”

“If you mean Kayla—”

“Of course, I mean Kayla. You told Paula you weren’t going to do anything. You promised her. She trusted you. You lied because you didn’t have the guts to look her in the face and tell her you were turning her in.”

“What? I never-”

“You sawwhat kind of mother she was to Kayla. You saw how much that little girl needed her. But you turned her in. And for what? That wasn’t even your case—you were hired by Claire’s mother. You had nothing to gain by accusing Paula.”

“Civic duty,” Megan murmured. “She’s a detective. Whether Ginny’s death was her job or not, it was still her responsibility—”

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” I said. “Did someone accuse Paula-?”

“You accused Paula,” Alastair said. “And not only that, you didn’t have the guts to do it to her face. You didn’t even have the guts to make the accusation in person. Or to give it to Chief Bruyn, because God forbid, he might show some mercy.”

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adam said. “But Savannah didn’t accuse anyone of anything. She’s been in a hospital for the last twenty-four—”

“Who was called?” I cut in.

“The state police,” Megan murmured when Alastair wouldn’t answer. “Early this morning. Bruyn arrested Paula a few hours ago and called social services for Kayla.”

forty-one

forty-one

We went straight to the police station. On the drive, Adam ranted about Alastair’s sudden show of concern for the benefit of the girls watching. I barely listened. Two sheriff’s department cars sat out front. Adam parked behind them and I took off ahead of him, jogging to the door.

I felt the chill as soon as I opened it. Bruyn’s mother and the local officers were crowded in the front room. All three stared at me and none said a word. The old woman pointed to Bruyn’s office, where I could hear him talking.

I threw open the door.

Bruyn turned sharply, and saw me. “Looks like you don’t need to track her down after all. Here’s the source of your information. Savannah Levine.”

Bruyn left me with the two detectives—a man and a woman. They weren’t the officers who’d come to the motel to question me after Michael’s death.

“Come in,” the woman said. “We have some questions for you.”

“Me first. Who told you I accused Paula Thompson?”

The detective looked at her partner. They exchanged a confused frown.

“You did,” the other one said.

“No, I did not. I’ve been in Portland since yesterday afternoon.”