Looking out the window at the growing insanity in my backyard, I say, “You think he killed his parents?”

“It’s possible.”

“That’s outside of what his … he’s been …” My throat closes. I shake, shoulders hunching, hands gripping the rim of the sink hard enough to turn my fingers numb.

“It’s not his M.O., no, but sometimes killers get started with something else first, before they settle into their habit.”

“Ken killed his parents, left his sister alive, got back in touch with her after all these years, and I never knew it.” Something that tries to be a laugh slips out of me. “You must think I’m the biggest kind of idiot.”

“No, Jewelann. I just want you to be prepared that more information might come out, and it could have the potential to really upend everything you thought you knew about your life.” She pauses. “The skeleton we found in your yard had a nail in the middle of its skull. They’re still working on it, but they’re pretty sure that was the cause of death.”

“Not strangulation.” My shaky laugh is out of place, and I clamp my lips shut over it.

“No. We don’t have a definitive answer yet if the body was strangled beforehand, but the head wound is most likely what killed him.”

“And it’s Billy Peak,” I whisper.

Detective Anderson nods. “Yes. Dental records have confirmed that. We think it was probably a crime of opportunity, not quite like the others. Ken was probably still establishing his … habits. Billy was here, Ken saw a chance, maybe he wasn’t able to fight a compulsion. He panicked.”

“Did he say all that?”

“He’s been saying a lot of things, Jewelann.”

“Worse than what you just told me?”

I wait.

She sighs. “We’re digging up your backyard because we have to make sure that he hasn’t buried any other victims there. Ken’s adamant we won’t find any.”

“Wouldn’t that make you want to look all the more?” I glance out through the sliders but can’t see more than motion.

“Yeah. Absolutely. We have to be sure.”

I face her. She stands, almost as if she means to hug me, but thankfully she does not. She puts her hands on her hips, instead. I think she doesn’t know how intimidating this makes her look, or maybe she does.

“He says that not only will we not find any other bodies in the yard, he is insisting that he did not bury the body we found.” Detective Anderson frowns. “He’s saying that you did it.”

The tiny laugh that burbled out of me a minute ago becomes a cackle, a guffaw, a short, sharp startlement of shocked hilarity. I cough it out of me, ratta-tat-tat, machine gun fire. To my surprise, Detective Anderson joins me in it, although her laughter is more melodious. Less strained. We laugh together. I have to put a hand on my stomach against the pain of tensing muscles. I wipe my eyes once, and then again, as the laughter becomes a strangled, garbled sob.