I was a wreck after the murders. I was twenty-two and in love for the first time in my life. The only time in my life. I hadn’t experienced loss yet. Nothing had ever been taken from me before. I didn’t understand what was happening, how to process it. Not only that he was gone, but that the people of this town thought he was a killer.

I told the diner I needed a little time off. I was having a hard time getting out of bed. I was lethargic. I was nauseated. I figured it was a sign of grief. Then a couple weeks after the murders I got another shock: I found out I was pregnant. I always thought a person could only be happy or sad—that one signified the absence of the other. I didn’t know the two states could coexist. Certainly not with the intensity I felt them. Tommy was dead, but soon I’d have his child.

I went back and forth about going to the police. Agonized over it. The only person that knew about me and Tommy was Mr. Miller. I hadn’t even told my parents. What if the real murderer found out about my connection and tried to kill me too? But knowing a baby was on the way made me determined to clear Tommy’s name. I went down to the station and spoke to the detective in charge of the case. I told them they had it wrong. Tommy wouldn’t hurt anyone. Mr. Miller wouldn’t hurt anyone. This was all impossible.

I told him all about me and Tommy—all of the things I’ve said until now. The diner. Our dreams of hitting the road. The statue. The detective perked up when I mentioned the statue. He wanted me to tell him everything I knew about it and how it had ended up in the cabin. I asked him if that was what was used to kill Mr. Miller. The paper had only said he’d been bludgeoned, not with what. The detective told me he couldn’t share those details, but I figured it was. I started crying. If I hadn’t given Tommy the statue, maybe none of this would have happened. The detective put his hand on my shoulder and let me cry.

When I was finished, I told him I had a lead for them. There was a young woman Tommy had told me about. She had short hair and dressed very stylishly. She had been coming around the cabin trying to get Mr. Miller to sell his land. She was very persistent. Tommy kept turning her away. He told me how one time he used the rifle to shoot a box of cookies she’d brought. I told him I thought that was a bit of an overreaction, but he said she gave him a very bad feeling. The cookies incident didn’t scare her off. She kept coming back.

I told the detective all this. Except about the cookies. I worried the idea of Tommy using a gun wouldn’t look good. The detective dismissed me. He said, “Ma’am, do you know how many people have been trying to buy that old man out of land all these years? If we rounded ’em all up as suspects, we wouldn’t have room in the jail to hold ’em all.” No, they had all the evidence they needed. Clean-cut case. Domestic struggle. Go home. We’re sorry for your loss.

To them, Tommy was just a hired worker. He had no status in the eyes of anyone with authority, especially the authorities. There was never a real investigation. The police didn’t care. They didn’t want another suspect. They weren’t interested in following up on every lead. They just wanted to close the case and get the story out of the papers so that it didn’t hurt tourism.