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“You told me you hadn’t seen your father prior to his execution,” I said. “You left me with the impression you had no contact at all with him. But that’s not true, is it?”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“I’m actually trying to give you an opportunity to explain.”

“Explain what?” he started to shout, then immediately checked himself.

I pulled another sheet of paper out of my bag and laid it in front of him. It was a photocopy of the prison visitor’s log with my dad’s pink highlights.

Boone’s face betrayed nothing. He read the paper, then stared at me with ice-cold eyes.

“You were visiting Derrek. Regularly. You met with him in the few weeks prior to his escape. Right before the Deadwater Lake murders. Then you met with him multiple times prior to his execution. Nine times in total, to be exact. That’s not what I would call no relationship. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Boone answered.

“It wasn’t just an omission. You said you had no relationship with him.”

“Contact isn’t a relationship. You want to know how those visits went? Most of the time he sat across from me in dead silence. I asked him why. I asked him how he could have done all the things he was accused of. He said nothing. I tried to talk to him about Grandpa. The only real father I ever had. He showed no emotion. Nothing. Certainly no compassion for how I might be feeling. I needed to know. For myself, I needed to see if there was any part of him that was … human. You of all people should understand that. I’m not saying your dad is the same. But you went to live with your father because you wanted to get to know him. Isn’t that right? I’ve heard the rumors since we met last time. Your dad has Alzheimer’s, hasn’t he? Which means you’re running out of time. Derrek was about to be executed. His clock was ticking too.”

“So why did you lie to me if that’s all it was?”

“Because it was mine. Because I didn’t owe you that. I still don’t. You asked for my help and I gave it. What is it you think I’m keeping from you now?”

“Boone, I told you I was working for Geneva Bell. I told you why. You said you wanted to help. Was that a lie? Were you only trying to find out how much I already knew?” Was Boone the one sending Geneva those messages? Had his father confessed something to him? Had he told him what he’d done to Geneva? Was Boone using that information to terrorize her now? Or was it something even worse?

He sat there, glaring at me. Should I tell him everything? Was that the right play? I didn’t have any others.

“Geneva has proof that someone else was either there the night of the murders, or that Sidney confessed to someone what really happened that night in great detail. You were meeting with him. The log says some of your visits lasted a full hour. Plenty of time for him to unburden himself.”

“You think he felt burdened by anything he’d done?” Boone asked. “He wasn’t. Not for a second. He acted like he was doing his victims a favor. As if they were the ones who should be grateful that he killed them.”

“Why grateful?” I asked. Did he mean blessed? Atrō te benedicto. I bless you with darkness.

“He thought he made them famous,” Boone said. “He thought he had made them memorable. That’s what he told me.”

“Did he tell his victims that?”

Boone jerked back. “What do you mean?”

“Geneva Bell held something back from the police. Something she tried to bury because it traumatized her so much. But the man who killed those girls and tried to strangle her said a kind of prayer over them. A blessing. A benediction. Did your father tell you what it was?”

“What? No, I don’t know. He said he did them a favor. He said they should feel lucky. I don’t remember his exact words.”

Raven knocked once, then walked into the office. “Boone, you need to take the call on line one. It’s the plumber. He’s out at the Scio Church site now. He says it’s urgent and time-sensitive.”

Boone glared at me. “I’ve gotta take this.”

“We haven’t finished our conversation,” I said.

“Then wait for me in the lobby,” he said. “This is still my place of business.”

I wasn’t getting anywhere. Reluctantly, I followed Raven back to the waiting area. She looked ready to launch into me again, but the phone at the front desk rang. Mercifully, she had to go answer it.

Should I leave? Would sticking around get me better answers than he’d already given me?

I paced for a moment in front of the exposed brick wall and bookshelf in Boone’s cozy little lobby.

He had compared his visits with Derrek Sidney with my decision to move to Helene. That was ludicrous. And yet, I strangely knew what he meant. The moment they stuck a needle in Derrek Sidney’s arm, Boone would have known he’d never have a chance to ask his father questions that might haunt him for the rest of his life.