“Billy Peak went missing in this neighborhood about ten years ago. He was a friend of yours, Eli?” Her eyes are bright and sharp, and her voice retains some of the kindness, but it’s also pointed. Direct.

“It’s Billy,” Eli says. “The bones are Billy’s.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” she begins.

I cut her off. “Could Eli be excused? I’ll be happy to talk to you about whatever you want, but he doesn’t need to sit here, does he?”

“I want to hear,” Eli says.

He’s not crying anymore, and although his face is still pale, he sits up straight. He doesn’t shrug off my hands, but I can feel his shoulders tensing as though he’d like to. I step back from him. Take my own seat again. His gaze meets mine. His lips press together. He gives me a tiny, almost indiscernible nod.

“I’m okay, Mom. I need to hear.”

The detective takes a seat between us. “Detective Phipps and I have been investigating a series of murders that have taken place over the past twelve years. All of the victims have fit the same profile. Male children between the ages of five and ten. Blond hair. Blue or gray eyes.”

That describes Billy Peak, all right.

“And you think my dad killed them? You think my dad’s a serial killer?” Eli’s voice goes high and scratchy.

She nods. I like her, how she treats my son. She has compassion, but I can tell she’s also determined to do her job. To catch a murderer.

“Were they all killed the same way? Could it be a terrible coincidence?” Of course I would like this to be true. It can’t take away the horror and trauma the parents of those boys must be feeling, but it might be better for them to have died by accident, rather than a murderer’s hand.

“Were they strangled? Drugged and strangled? You think my dad’s the Playground Killer.” Eli’s voice shakes, but he clears his throat to add, “The stories and theories have been all over Reddit.”

I can’t help it. I get sucked in and have to read all the updates. I suppose now I know at least one thing my son’s been reading all those hours alone in his room.

Detective Anderson nods. “There are similarities in each of the cases that lead us to believe it is the work of the same person. I can’t comment on the nickname some internet groups have given the perpetrator. All I can tell you is that we have strong evidence to place your husband in at least one of the locations where a child went missing. Anything you can do to help us find Ken would be extremely helpful.”

“Serial killers always use the same methods, right?” Eli asks.

She hesitates. “Usually, yes. But I can’t really comment on more than that, we don’t have any proof—”

Eli jumps in. “You know if it’s a serial killer, though. You have to be working with cops in other states, maybe even the FBI since he’s been crossing state lines. If you have enough evidence to tie it to a single person, you’re convinced. They were all killed the same way, no real variations. It’s how you know you’re looking for one guy. How you know it’s not just random happenstance. Right?”