He put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot.

“IF THAT DON’T beat all,” Bishop Towne said, sipping his milk.

“Right,” Dance said to him and his daughter, on the front porch of his house. “Edwin was innocent. Didn’t kill a soul. Totally set up.”

“He’s still a shit.”

“Daddy.”

“He’s a little fucking shit and I wouldn’t mind if he went to jail for something. But it’s good to know he’s not going to be a problem anymore.” The grizzled musician squinted at Dance. “He’s not, is he?”

“I don’t think so. He’s mostly sad that Kayleigh didn’t send him those personal emails and letters, the ones Simesky made up.”

“We should sue those bastards,” Bishop said. “The Keyholders? The fuck are they about?”

“Daddy, really. Come on.” Kayleigh nodded toward the kitchen, where Suellyn and Mary-Gordon were helping Sheri bake something fragrant with vanilla. But the man’s raspy voice probably hadn’t carried inside.

Kayleigh said, “I’m not going to sue anybody, Daddy. We don’t need that kind of publicity.”

“Well, we’re going to get publicity whether we want it or not. I’ll talk to Sher about spinning it.” Then he patted his daughter on the shoulder. “Hey, lookit the good news, KT The bad guys’re dead and Edwin’s out of the picture. So, no more talk about canceling any concerts. Speaking of that, I’ve been working on the song order again and I think we’ve got to move ‘Leaving Home.’ Everybody wants it. Encore’d be best. And I’d get the kids’ choir to sing the last part in Spanish.”

Dance was aware that Kayleigh’s shoulders had risen in tension at these comments. Clearly she herself still wasn’t so sure about the concert. Just because the killers had been stopped and Edwin absolved didn’t mean she was in the mental state necessary to put on a show in the shadow of the recent crimes.

And then Dance noticed the young woman’s posture collapse subtly. Which meant surrender.

“Sure, Daddy. Sure.”

The tone of the evening had changed quickly but, oblivious to it, Bishop Towne rose like a buffalo climbing out of a stream he’d just forded and ambled inside. “Hey, M-G, whatcha baking?”

Kayleigh looked after him, grim-faced. Dance used the opportunity to fish into her purse and hand her the sealed envelope that contained Bobby’s in-the-event-of letter and a copy of the adoption papers. The singer weighed it in her hand. Dance said softly, “That turned up in the investigation. I’m the only one who knows. You handle it however you want.”

“What—?”

“You’ll see.”

The woman stared down at the slim envelope, clutching it as if it weighed ten pounds. Dance realized that she knew what it contained. “You have to understand. I just …”

Dance hugged her. “It’s not my business,” she whispered. “Now, I’m going to get back to the motel. I’ve got a report to dictate.”

Kayleigh slipped the envelope into her pocket, thanked Dance for all she’d done and went into the house.