Chapter 18: The Rehearsal Dinner

Richard didn't get out of the car.

He lowered his phone and spoke across the street, loud enough for me to hear over the traffic.

"The rehearsal dinner is Friday, seven o'clock, at the hotel."

"I'm not on the list," I said.

"You are now." His voice shook. "Come and bring what she gave you. I will answer every question in front of my family."

"Why would I wait for Friday?"

"Because if it reaches a newspaper first, I will never say it myself."

He looked old in the window, and for a moment I believed him.

Then the glass rose, and the car pulled out.

Finn whistled low.

"That was terrifying and I loved it," he said. "Are we going?"

"We're going."

That night Keir read every message in the folder at the kitchen table, with his jaw locked.

When he finished, he turned the phone over and laid his hand flat on it.

"He wants an audience," he said.

"He wants me there."

"He came to my office last week." Keir looked up. "He offered to confess to the district attorney, in writing, with every detail."

My heart stopped.

"What did he want for it?"

"Me to drop you."

"Drop me."

"Send you away from the house and tell you it had all been a game." His eyes didn't leave mine. "He said he couldn't be shown up in front of you."

"And what did you say?"

"I said no."

"You didn't think about it?"

"I thought about it for the length of one breath." His mouth tilted. "Then I thought about you in my kitchen with glass in your hand, and I said no."

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