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“Brody and I grew up together. We weren’t close anymore, but Devil’s Peak is small.”

“What happened?”

“One night we were at a bar outside town. Brody was there with two guys.” He pauses. “They were fucked up. Pills. Coke. Whiskey. Whatever they could get.”

“And you?”

“Sober.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t drink much then. So they started fucking with people. Brody always got mean when he was high. Started something with a guy at the bar.”

“What did you do?”

“Told him to knock it off.”

“And?”

“He told me to mind my business.” Dane laughs once without humor. “For once, I did. I left.”

My stomach tightens. “Then what?”

“Thirty seconds later, Brody and his friends followed the guy outside. And they beat him to death.” Dane looks past me. “Police showed up. Brody told them I did it.”

“What?”

“Said I followed the guy outside. Said I threw the punches that killed him.”

“But you’d left.”

“Nobody saw me leave.”

“There had to be cameras.”

“Not outside. Not ten years ago at some shitty mountain bar.”

“What about your car?”

“No proof when I drove away.”

My anger rises. “So Brody just lied?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would the police believe him?”

Dane finally looks at me. “Look at me, Lila.”

I do.

He’s six-four. Huge and tattooed. Scarred. Quiet. Dangerous when pushed.

But that’s not the man I know.

“You’d just gotten out of the military,” I say.

“Special Forces.”