hat same morning, while Sarah sat crying on the couch, Charlie Curtis strode up Miles Ryan’s walkway. He was dressed in his uniform; it was the first Sunday in years that he and Brenda wouldn’t make it to church, but as he’d explained to her earlier, he didn’t feel he had a choice. Not after the two phone calls he’d received the day before.

Not after staying up for most of the night and watching Miles’s house because of them.

He knocked; Miles came to the door wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and a baseball hat. If he was surprised to see Charlie standing on his porch, he gave no indication.

“We need to talk,” Charlie said without preamble.

Miles put his hands on his hips, not hiding the anger he still felt at what Charlie had done.

“So talk.”

Charlie pushed the brim of his hat up. “Do you want to do this on the porch where Jonah can hear, or do you want to talk in the yard? Your choice. It doesn’t matter to me.”

A minute later, Charlie was leaning against the car, his arms crossed. Miles stood facing him. The sun was still low in the sky, and Miles had to squint to see him.

“I need to know if you went looking for Sims Addison,” Charlie said, getting right to the point.

“Are you asking or do you already know?”

“I’m asking because I want to know if you’re willing to lie directly to my face.”

After a moment, Miles glanced away. “Yeah. I went looking for him.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you couldn’t find him.”

“You’re on suspension, Miles. Do you know what that means?”

“It wasn’t anything official, Charlie.”

“It doesn’t matter. I gave you a direct order and you disregarded it. You’re just lucky that Harvey Wellman didn’t find out. But I can’t keep covering for you, and I’m too old and too tired to put up with crap like that.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to keep warm. “I need the file, Miles.”

“My file?”

“I want it admitted as evidence.”

“Evidence? For what?”

“It concerns the death of Missy Ryan, doesn’t it? I want to see those notes you’ve been scribbling.”

“Charlie . . .”

“I’m serious. Either you hand it over or I’ll take it. It’s one or the other, but in the end, I’m going to have it.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m hoping it’ll knock some sense into you. You obviously didn’t listen to a thing I said yesterday, so let me say it again. Stay out of this. Let us handle it.”

“Fine.”

“I need your word that you’re going to stop looking for Sims and that you’ll stay away from Otis Timson.”

“It’s a small town, Charlie. I can’t help it if we happen to bump into each other.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m tired of playing games, Miles, so let me make something clear. If you so much as get within a hundred yards of Otis, or his house or even the places he spends his time, I’ll throw you in jail.” Miles looked at Charlie incredulously. “For what?”

“For battery.”

“Battery?”

“That little stunt you pulled in the car.” He shook his head. “You don’t seem to realize you’re in a heap of trouble here. Either you keep your distance, or you’ll end up behind bars.”

“This is crazy. . . .”

“You brought it on yourself. Right now, you’re so worked up that I don’t know what else to do. Do you know where I was last night?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I was parked right down the street, making sure you didn’t leave. Do you know how it makes me feel to think I can’t trust you after all we’ve been through? It’s a crappy feeling, and I don’t want to have to do that again. So if you don’t mind—and I can’t make you do this—along with the file, I’d appreciate it if you’d just let me hold on to your other guns for a while, the ones you keep in the house. You can have ’em back when all this is over. If you say no, I’m gonna have to put you under surveillance, and believe me, I will. You won’t be able to buy a cup of coffee without someone watching every move you make. And you should also know that I’ve got deputies out at the Timson place and they’re watching for you, too.”

Miles stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “He was driving the car, Charlie.”

“Do you really think that? Or do you just want an answer—any answer?”

Miles’s head snapped up. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one who talked to Earl, not you. I’m the one who reviewed every step of the highway patrol’s investigation. I’m telling you, there’s no physical evidence linking Otis to the crime.”

“I’ll find the evidence—”

“No, you won’t!” Charlie shot back. “That’s just the thing! You won’t find anything because you’re out of this!”

Miles said nothing, and after a long moment, Charlie put his hand on Miles’s shoulder.

“Look, we’re still looking into this—you’ve got my word on that.” He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know . . . maybe we’ll find something. And if we do, I’ll be the first one to come and tell you that I was wrong and that Otis will get what’s coming to him. Okay?”

Miles’s jaw clenched involuntarily as Charlie waited for a response. Finally, sensing that none was coming, Charlie went on.

“I know how hard this is—”

With that, Miles shrugged off Charlie’s hand and stared at him. His eyes flashed.

“No, you don’t,” Miles snapped, “and you never will, Charlie. Brenda’s still around, remember? You still wake up in the same bed, you can call her anytime you want. No one ran her down in cold blood, no one got away with it for years.  And mark my words, Charlie, no one’s gonna get away with it now.” Despite Miles’s words, Charlie left ten minutes later with the file and the guns. Neither man said another word.

There was no need for that. Charlie was doing his job.

And Miles was going to do his.

• • •

Once she was alone, Sarah sat in the living room, numb to everything around her.  She hadn’t moved from the couch even after she’d stopped crying, feeling somehow that the slightest movement would shatter her tenuous composure.  Nothing made sense.

She didn’t have the energy to separate her emotions; instead they were jumbled together, indistinguishable. Like an overloaded outlet, she felt as if a breaker had tripped inside her, leaving her incapable of any action.  How on earth had this happened? Not Brian’s accident—she could understand that, at least on the surface. It was terrible, and what he had done afterward was wrong, no matter how she looked at it. But it was an accident. She knew that.  Brian couldn’t have avoided it, any more than she would have been able to avoid it.

And in the blink of an eye, Missy Ryan had died.

Missy Ryan.

Jonah’s mother.

Miles’s wife.

That’s what didn’t make any sense.

Why had Brian hither?

And why, of all the people in the world, had it been Miles who later came into her life? It was almost impossible to believe, and as she sat on the couch, she couldn’t reconcile everything she’d just learned—her horror at Brian’s confession and the obvious guilt he was suffering . . . her anger and revulsion at the fact that he’d hidden the truth, set against the implacable knowledge that she would always love her brother . . .

And Miles . . .

Oh God. . .Miles . . .

What was she supposed to do now? Call him with what she knew? Or wait a little until she composed herself and figured out exactly what to say?  The way Brian had waited?

Oh, God . . .

What would happen to Brian?

He would go to jail. . . .

She felt ill.

Yes, that’s what he deserved, even if he was her brother. He broke the law and should pay for his crime.

Or should he? He was her little brother, just a kid when it happened, and it hadn’t been his fault.

She shook her head, suddenly wishing Brian hadn’t told her.  Yet in her heart, she knew why he had told her. For two years, Miles had paid the price of his silence.

And now, Otis was going to pay.

She inhaled deeply, bringing her fingers to her temples.

No, Miles wouldn’t go that far. Would he?

Maybe not now, but it would eat away at him as long as he believed Otis was guilty, and one day he might—

She shook her head, not wanting to think about that.

Still, she didn’t know what to do.

Nor had any answers come to her a few minutes later, when Miles showed up at her door.

• • •

“Hi,” Miles said simply.

Sarah stared at him as if in shock, unable to move her hand from the doorknob.

She felt herself tense, her thoughts veering in opposite directions.

Tell him now, just get it over with. . . .

Wait until you’ve figured out what to say first. . . .

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Oh . . . yeah . . . um . . .,” she stammered. “Come in.” She stepped back, and Miles closed the door behind him. He hesitated for a moment before heading toward the window, where he pulled the curtains and scanned the road; then he made a circuit of the living room, obviously distracted. Stopping at the mantel, he absently adjusted a picture of Sarah and her family, angling it so it faced the living room. Sarah stood in the center of the room without moving. The whole thing felt surreal. All she could think as she watched him was that she knew who’d killed his wife.  “Charlie came by this morning,” he said suddenly, and the sound of his voice brought her back. “He took the file I had on Missy.”

“I’m sorry.”

It sounded ridiculous, but it was the first and only thing that came to mind.

Miles didn’t seem to notice.

“He also told me that he’d have me arrested if I so much as look at Otis Timson.”

This time, Sarah didn’t respond. He’d come to vent; the defensive posture he held made that clear. Miles turned toward her.

“Can you believe that? All I did was arrest the guy who killed my wife and this is what happens.”

It took all the control she could summon to keep her composure.

“I’m sorry,” she said for the second time.

“So am I.” He shook his head. “I can’t look for Sims, I can’t look for evidence, I can’t do anything. I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for Charlie to handle everything.”

She cleared her throat, struggling for a way out. “Well . . . don’t you think that might be a good idea? For a little while, I mean?” she offered.  “No, not really. Christ, I’m the only one who kept looking after the initial investigation dried up. I know more about this case than anyone.” No, Miles, you don’t.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ll listen to Charlie, though, won’t you?”

Miles looked away, refusing to answer, and Sarah felt something drop in her stomach.

“Listen, Miles,” she said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think Charlie’s right. Let other people handle Otis.”

“Why? So they can screw it up a second time?”

“They didn’t screw it up.”

His eyes flashed. “No? Then why is Otis still walking around? Why was it up to me to find the people who fingered him? Why didn’t they look harder for any evidence back then?”

“Maybe there wasn’t any,” she answered quietly.

“Why do you keep playing devil’s advocate about this?” he demanded. “You did the same damn thing yesterday.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did. You didn’t listen to anything I said.”

“I didn’t want you to do anything—”

He held up his hands. “Yeah—I know. You and Charlie both. Neither one of you seems to realize what the hell is going on here.”

“Of course I do,” she said, trying to hide the tension in her voice. “You think Otis did it and you want revenge. But what happens if you find out later that Sims and Earl were wrong somehow?”

“Wrong?”

“With what they heard, I mean. . . .”

“You think they’re lying about this? Both of them?”

“No. I’m just saying that maybe they heard it wrong. Maybe Otis said it, but he didn’t mean it. Maybe he didn’t do it.”

For a moment, Miles was too thunderstruck to speak. Sarah pressed on, talking over the lump in her throat.

“I mean, what if you find out that Otis is innocent? I know you two don’t get along—” “Don’t get along?” he said, cutting her off. He stared hard at her before taking a step toward her. “What the hell are you talking about? He killed my wife, Sarah.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he said. He moved even closer to her. “What I don’t know is why you’re so convinced that he’s innocent.”

She swallowed. “I’m not saying that he is. I’m just saying that you should let Charlie handle this so that you don’t do anything . . .”

“Like what? Kill him?”

Sarah didn’t answer and Miles stood before her. His voice was strangely calm.

“Like he killed my wife, you mean?”

She paled. “Don’t start talking like that. You’ve got Jonah to think about.”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

“It’s true, though. You’re all he’s got.”

“Don’t you think I know that? What do you think kept me from pulling the trigger in the first place? I had the chance but I didn’t do it, remember?” Miles exhaled sharply as he turned from her, almost as if he were disappointed that he hadn’t. “Yeah, I wanted to kill him. I think he deserves it for what he did—an eye for an eye, right?” He shook his head and looked up at her. “I just want him to pay. And he will. One way or another.”

With that, Miles abruptly walked to the door, slamming it as he left.