She rattles off the address of the care center. As soon as I disconnect the call Cora screams and launches herself at me, planting a big kiss on my lips. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we found her.

“I can’t believe it,” Cora says, reiterating what I was thinking. “This could be it. This could be the thing that frees Beau.”

I don’t want to bring her down with the possibility that Mrs. Wheeler could be in a coma or in some other way unable to speak. And even if she can it doesn’t mean she’ll be able to tell us anything useful. But I don’t say any of that to Cora because she’s looking at me like I’m a big fucking hero, with something I’ve never seen before in her expression—hope.

“It could,” I say instead, bringing her in close. “It very well could.”

Chapter 29 Cora

I’m really not trying to get my hopes up, but finding Mrs. Wheeler is the single best lead I’ve ever had in Beau’s case. She could free him. The thought of Beau free is almost too much. My brain can’t process it. I’ve never allowed myself to imagine it. How could I, when the possibility has always been so completely impossible? I bet my parents never envisioned it either. Why would they, when they believed in his guilt from the start? I try to picture their faces when I tell them Beau is going to be freed, that he didn’t kill Cassandra, and that their complete lack of faith in him made them no better than a stranger.

I wonder if my dad will even be sober enough to fully comprehend how badly they fucked up. Or if my mom will pretend she believed in him the whole entire time. She’ll twist the past five and a half years in some way so she comes out the victim in the story.

How will Beau feel to finally be free? What will he want to do first? What will he need? I can’t wait to be standing there when he walks out of that hellhole. I can’t wait to hug him and have him smell like him instead of a stranger. I can’t wait for his hair to grow back out and not to have to constantly worry that he’ll be beaten or killed. I can’t wait to have him home.

Leo and I cross the border into Mexico. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here or anywhere. I had to dig out my passport for the return trip back to the United States. I flip it open and look at my picture. My mom took me to have my hair done like it was some kind of fashion photo session. She made Beau wear a tie for his picture. That winter we went to Italy as a family. The next winter Cassandra was dead, Beau was on trial for her murder, and my dad moved out.

What a difference a year makes.

Leo follows the directions Siri gives him. We’re going to arrive well before the time Leo told Mrs. Wheeler’s niece we’d be there.

“Why did you tell Alice we’d be there at three?” I ask Leo. “We’re going to get there at least an hour before that.”

“I didn’t want her there when we talk to Mrs. Wheeler. I wasn’t exactly honest with her about the reason for our visit.” He winks at me.

“True.”

“I also don’t want to take the chance that she won’t let us talk to Mrs. Wheeler. She might not want to get involved.”

“Also true.”

We grow quiet again. Leo squeezes my hand in his lap. He must sense my nervous excitement. I haven’t been still since the moment Alice confirmed that Mrs. Wheeler is still alive. We ride the rest of the way in silence except for every now and then when I have to translate something for him. My Spanish is much better than his.

We pull up to the care facility and park. Before hitting the road we stopped off at Jamie’s house and recovered the backup copy of my binder that has all of the profiles of everyone involved in the murder investigation. I brought it to help jog Mrs. Wheeler’s memory. There’s no telling what her mental state is and I might need to remind her who Cassandra was to her.

I tell the woman at the front desk that we’re relatives of Mrs. Wheeler’s. She takes us through a winding maze of hallways until we’re standing before room number 232. Mrs. Wheeler’s room. We’re so close.

The woman tells me in Spanish that Mrs. Wheeler is having a good day. Thank goodness for that. Although I’m not sure how good her good days are. The woman leaves us to enter the room on our own.

Mrs. Wheeler lies in her bed, looking out the window. She doesn’t seem to realize we’re here. I hardly recognize her. She’s so much older and more shrunken than the last time I saw her.

“Mrs. Wheeler?”

She turns her face toward us. “Yes?”

Her response encourages me. “Hi. My name is Cora Hollis and this is Leo Nash. I was friends with Cassandra, your upstairs neighbor when you lived in San Diego.”

She blinks at me. I’m not sure she understands me. I repeat myself in Spanish.

“My Spanish isn’t that good. English, please. Come closer so I can see you.”

We move to her bedside. She presses a button on the remote for her bed and raises herself into a sitting position.

“Do you remember when you lived in San Diego? You had an upstairs neighbor named Cassandra Williams?” I ask.

Her gaze is unfocused on mine. I try again. “She lived upstairs from you. She was murdered.”

“Oh, yes.” She does some slow blinking, then her eyes go wide. “Yes. So terrible.”

“Would you mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened to Cassandra?” Leo asks.

“I suppose not. Who are you again?”

“Leo Nash and Cora Hollis. Cora knew Cassandra,” Leo says. “Is it okay if we ask you a few questions about what happened to her?”

She nods. Leo’s worked his magic again. She’s more with it than I could’ve hoped. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her at all, other than being bedridden.

I inch a little closer to her. “Did you see anyone enter or leave Cassandra’s apartment the day of her murder?”

“Just the delivery man like I told the officer.”

I ask, What delivery man? at the same time Leo asks, What officer?

I cast Leo an annoyed glance. He puts his palms up, letting me know it’s all mine. I’m annoyed because his question was better than mine.

“You were questioned by a police officer about Cassandra’s murder?”

“Yes. He spent most of that afternoon with me, asking over and over about the delivery man.”

“Can you tell me who the officer was who spoke to you?”

She lowers her brows. “I don’t remember his name.”

“If you saw his picture do you think you’d recognize him?” Leo asks, opening my binder.

I’m too grateful he thought of something I didn’t to be mad at him for butting in again.

Mrs. Wheeler glances down at the binder. “Maybe.”

I turn the page and Cassandra’s pretty face is smiling back at us.

“Oh,” Mrs. Wheeler breathes. “She was so beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was.”

“Wait a minute.” She puts a hand out to stop me from turning the page. “Hollis. Are you related to Beau Hollis?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m his sister.”

She pushes at the binder. “I can’t help you.”

“Please. Please help me find the officer who spoke to you that day. My brother’s life is on the line here.”

“That’s of his own doing, not mine. No. Take that thing away and leave. I don’t want anything to do with that monster.”

Leo takes the binder, snapping it closed. “You don’t have to help us.”

What the hell is he doing?

“I just hope you can live with the fact that you refused to help free an innocent man.” He turns and walks toward the door.

I gape at him, unable to believe what he’s doing. He’s blowing this whole thing.

He’s got a hand on the door handle when Mrs. Wheeler finally finds her voice. “What do you mean ‘innocent’? A jury convicted him.”