"Oh?" I said.

"We had a very distressing thing happen with Billy before the boys went out for their movie tonight," she said.

A pregnant pause. "Would it be more appropriate to discuss it with Julia?"

"Julia's still a little under the weather," I said. "I'll certainly share whatever you tell me with her."

"Very well, then," she said. "My husband and I have started something of a second family. We have a new baby. Two months old."

"Congratulations," I said, not sure exactly where she was going, but not feeling good about the general direction. Not enough time had passed since Brooke's murder for infants to be linked with anything but with death in my mind. I looked over at Billy, who was trying to wipe the blood off his chest.

"Before the boys left, Jason had a few chores to finish up around the house-nothing major, picking up his belongings in the yard, and so forth."

"Right," I said, hungry for the punch line.

"While he completed them, he left Billy alone in his bedroom. Jason has a new Nintendo game the boys have enjoyed."

"Okay."

"And when Jason had finished up outside, he asked my husband to let Billy know to come downstairs, so the boys could be off."

My patience had worn thin. "So what happened?" I said, more pointedly.

"Just this: My husband found Billy in the nursery, next to Naomi's bassinet, staring at her. She was napping. I had put her down about an hour earlier."

Despite the fact that Darwin had been charged with Brooke's murder, it couldn't have been comforting for Mr. Sanderson to find the former lead suspect in the case eyeing his infant daughter. "What did Billy say he was doing?" I asked.

"My husband asked him that. He didn't respond. He seemed like he was-away, in some sort of trance. Nicholas had to lay hands on him-jostle him a bit-to bring him back to the moment."

She could have said Billy seemed dazed or in a fog. Trance is one of those code words people reserve for psychopaths. "You were worried about him harming your daughter?" I said, to cut to the chase.

Billy looked at me, his eyes sharpening.

"I'm not saying that, exactly," Sanderson said. She paused. "Friends of ours on Nantucket have told us that Billy had problems, long before the tragedy with his sister, Brooke. I'm speaking of his stealing. Hurting animals."

"That's true," I said. It didn't look like Martha's Vineyard was going to offer Billy a second chance.

"And one never knows what to believe these days," she said. "About anything. It seems that there's always another shoe waiting to drop. Another bit of intrigue."

Translation: The police could have screwed up and wrongly accused Darwin Bishop of infanticide when his crazed, Russian adoptee son was really the guilty one. Maybe Darwin even sacrificed himself to shield the boy from prosecution. "I understand completely," I said.

"So we-my husband and I-talked it over. We'd prefer Billy not visit our home, anymore. It's best he not spend time with Jason, either."

I felt in my own gut what I knew Billy would be feeling: disappointment, isolation, abandonment. Losing a friend can be tough for anyone, but for an orphan like Billy who has just lost a sister… "I'll certainly let him know," I said. "And I'll make sure he abides by your wishes."

"Thank you so much," she said. "It's a difficult thing to speak about."

"Have a nice night," I said, as kindly as I could manage. "I hope Billy taught those boys a lesson. Maybe they'll stop torturing your son."

"Yes, well. Good night, then," she said.

I sat down on the couch next to Billy. He started to weep. "Listen to me," I said. "You didn't kill anyone. But you did hurt those boys who were picking on Jason. The way it sounds, you hurt them pretty badly-maybe even broke a bone or two."

He nodded somberly, getting control of himself again. "I lost it," he said.

"There's something else," I said.

Billy had overheard enough of my phone conversation to know I was referring to the Sandersons' baby. "I was just standing there, trying to imagine what Brooke went through," he said. "I haven't let myself. Not once. But when I walked past Jason's sister's room and saw her sleeping, I couldn't stop imagining it." He squinted at the floor. "So I just went in there and watched her. I mean, think about it: Waking up and not being able to breathe. Suffocating in a little bed with your mother downstairs, while your father watches you die."

As much as I welcomed Billy empathizing with the suffering of others, I was worried he missed how inappropriate his behavior had been. "Mr. Sanderson had trouble getting your attention. He had to shake you."

"I was staring at her, but I saw Brooke."

When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with sadness, but I also thought I saw (Did I, though?) the slightest hint of morbid curiosity-something close to excitement. "You lost control with those boys," I said. "And it was wrong to go into Jason's sister's room without permission."

Billy nodded.

I looked out the cottage window, at the full moon, gathering the will to tell him the consequences. "The Sandersons are going to need time to feel comfortable with you again. They don't want you to visit the house-or to spend time with Jason."

Billy's eyes thinned. "Why not?"

"You worried them," I said.

"I stood up for Jason," he said.

"No. You went beyond standing up for him. You also wandered around the Sandersons' home, into the nursery and…"

"What are they saying?" he said, indignantly. "They think I killed Brooke?"

"The Sandersons are thinking about their baby," I said, dodging the question. "The long and short of it is that you probably remind them that life is fragile. And they don't want to be reminded of that right now. They're new parents."

"Bullshit," he said. "They think I did it." His lip curled. No more trembling. No more tears. "Fuck them. They can all go straight to hell." He stood up. "I'm not going to stop hanging out with Jason, just because his parents are uptight assholes." He took a step toward the door.

I stood and held up a hand, hoping to coax him to talk through his anger. But before I could say a word, he shoved me out of the way and stormed out.

"Billy!" I called after him.

He broke into a jog and disappeared in the direction of the house.

22

I gave Billy a few minutes, hoping he would cool down, then followed him to the house. I let myself in, not wanting to wake anyone. But I found Julia, her mother, and Garret standing in the living room, all of them looking uneasy. Billy had woken everyone in the house when he burst in, slamming the door behind him, cursing me, the Sandersons, and his own miserable existence all the way to his room.

"What happened?" Julia asked me. She was dressed in the simple white T-shirt I had watched her taking off. It barely covered her. As I looked at her, she glanced selfconsciously at the tops of her thighs.

"Why don't we talk about it privately?" I suggested.

"He screamed he wished he was dead," Garret said.

I wasn't sure which of the details Garret and Candace really needed to know. "He got into a fight tonight with some bullies. They're kids who bother Jason Sanderson all the time. Things got out of hand, and the Sandersons are worried about Billy's temper. They don't want him to spend time with their son anymore."

Candace shook her head in dismay.

"Was anyone badly hurt?" Julia said. "Did Billy…?"

"A broken arm sounds like the worst of it," I said. "There could be legal charges, but"-I caught Julia's eye- "let's talk about this privately and decide what you think we should do."

"I think that's a good idea," she said. We went into the dining room. Julia and I sat at the table, the lights dim in harmony with the early morning hour. I told her everything I knew.