“What?” Her eyes went wide and white. Hands clawed into the fabric of her skirt.

“If you said it was somebody else, and the cops found blood in the house, then the story would collapse. It could not be a stranger. It had to be someone with access to the house. Upstairs, especially. It couldn’t be Jamie or my father. It had to be me. I was the only one you weren’t close to.”

My father finally stirred, but I raised a hand before he could speak. “I always thought you believed it. I thought you saw someone that you honestly mistook for me.” I paused. “But that’s not it. You had to testify against me. Just in case.”

My father spoke. “Are you insane?”

“No. I’m not.”

Janice put her hands on the chair and pushed herself up. “I refuse to listen to this,” she said. “Jacob, I’d like to go home.”

I pulled the postcard from beneath the sheet, held it up so that she could see it. One hand settled at her throat, the other reached for the chair. “Sit down,” I said. And she did.

“What’s that?” my father asked.

“Gray Wilson, unfortunately, is ancient history. Dead and buried. I can’t prove a thing. But this”-I waved the card-“this is a different matter.”

“Jacob…” She reached for his arm, fingers curling around his wrist. My father repeated the question. “What is that?”

“This is choice,” I said to him. “Your choice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Whatever demons pursued Miriam, they’d been after her for a long time, and Janice knew all about them. Why she hid them, I can’t pretend to understand. But Miriam was sick. She killed Gray Wilson because she thought she loved him and because he didn’t want anything to do with her. Same thing with Danny Faith.” I paused. “The knob is hard to get to. You’d need a truck for the body, and Danny was a large man.”

“What are you talking about?” my father asked.

“Miriam couldn’t get Danny into that hole all by herself.”

“No,” he said. But he knew. I saw it in his face.

“I don’t think Miriam mailed this card, either.” I flipped the card so he could read the back. Having a blast, it said. “It was mailed after Danny died.”

“This is ridiculous,” Janice said.

“Janice took Miriam to Colorado within a day or two of Danny’s death. You can route through Florida on your way to Denver. I made some phone calls this morning. An hour and forty minutes to change planes. Plenty of time to drop a postcard in the mail. The police can verify the travel itinerary. The dates will match.” I held my father’s eyes. “I doubt that this card has Miriam’s prints on it.”

My father was silent for a long time. “It’s not true,” Janice said. “Jacob…”

He did not look at her. “What does any of this have to do with choice?”

“Whoever mailed this card was trying to conceal the fact that Danny was dead. The police will want to speak with the person that mailed this card.”

He came to his feet, voice loud, and Janice twitched when he spoke.

“What choice, goddamn it?”

The moment drew out, and I took no pleasure in it. But it had to be done. Too many wrongs littered the road behind us: betrayal and lies; murder and complicity. A mountain of grief.

I placed the card on the edge of the bed.

“I’m giving it to you,” I said. “Burn it. Hand it over to the police. Give it to her.” I pointed to Janice and she shrank away. “Your choice.”

They both stared at the card. Nobody touched it.

“You made other phone calls?” he asked. “What other calls?”

“Janice and Miriam flew back from Colorado the night before Grace was attacked. They stayed the night in a hotel in downtown Charlotte. George drove in the next morning and spent the day with Janice-”

“He took me shopping,” Janice interrupted.

“And Miriam stayed behind.”

“At the hotel,” Janice said.

I shook my head. “She rented a car two hours before Grace was attacked. A green Taurus. License plate ZXF-839. The police know about that, too.”

“What are you saying?” my father asked.

“I’m saying that she was still angry about Danny. She’d had eighteen days to think about Grace and Danny together, about how Danny dumped her for Grace. I’m saying she was still angry about that.”

“I don’t…” He was lost, so I drove the point home.

“Two hours after Miriam rented that car, someone stepped from behind a tree and beat Grace with a club.”

He looked at the card, looked at me. Janice squeezed his arm so hard I thought she might draw blood. “But what about Danny’s ring? The note…?”

“She probably kept the ring when she killed Danny. She may have left it with Grace as some kind of strange message. Or maybe, like the note, she was covering her tracks, hiding the true nature of Grace’s assault. The ring implied that Danny was involved in the attack, even that he was still alive. If people didn’t buy that, or if Danny’s body was found, then the note would steer them to people with a stake on the river. I think it was simple misdirection. Something she learned from watching her mother.”

My father looked at his wife.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He picked up the card and our eyes met. He tried to speak, but gave up when nothing came. Janice pulled herself up by my father’s sleeve. He looked at her one last time, then turned like a very old man, and left. Janice bent her head and trailed in his wake.

I waited until their footsteps died away, then reached for the morphine trigger. I pushed the button and warmth gushed into me. I kept my thumb on the trigger, even after the morphine ceased to flow.

My eyes glazed.

The button clicked in the empty room.

Robin returned as the sun fell through the earth. She kissed me and asked how it went. I told her everything and she was silent for a long time. She opened her phone and made some calls. “He hasn’t called,” she said. “Not Salisbury P.D. Not the sheriff’s office.”

“He may not.”

“You okay with that?”

“I don’t know anymore. I hate what Janice did to me, but Miriam was her daughter. She did what she felt she had to do.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’ve never had a child, so I can only imagine, but I’d lie for Grace. I’d lie for you. I’d do worse, if necessary.”

“Sweet talker.” She stretched out on the bed with me, put her head on the pillow next to mine.

“About New York,” I said.

“Don’t ask me about that yet.”

“I thought you’d made your choice.”

“I did. But that doesn’t mean that you get to make every decision for the rest of our lives.” She was trying to keep it light.

“I really can’t stay here,” I said.

Her head turned on the pillow. “Ask me about Dolf.”

“Tell me.”

“The D.A. is close to dropping the charges. Most people think he has no choice. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Soon?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

I thought of Dolf, pictured the way he’d turn his face to the sun when he walked out.

“Have you seen Grace yet?” she asked.

“She’s still in ICU and they’re limiting visitation. But that’s okay. I’m not ready.”

“You’ll confront your father and Janice, but you’re hesitant to talk to Grace? I don’t understand.”

“She’ll need time to get her head around this. Besides, it’s hard.”

“Why?”

“I have something to lose with Grace. I had nothing left to lose with my father.” She stiffened beside me. “What?” I asked.

“Not very long ago, I’d have said the same thing about you.”

“That’s different.”

She rolled onto her side. “Life is short, Adam. We don’t get many people that truly matter. We should do whatever it takes to hang onto the ones we have.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we all make mistakes.”

We lay in the darkened room and at one point I drifted. Her voice startled me. “Why did Miriam agree to marry George Tallman?”

“I talked to him this morning. He was pretty messed up. I asked him how it happened. He’d been in love with her for years. They went out, but she would never say yes. She called him on the day before she left for Colorado. She told him to ask her again, and she said yes, just like that. He already had the ring.