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freak of a brother, Dean, who got on his nerves. Dean hovered on the porch behind them, hoping to overhear what they had to say, but for his own safety he didn’t venture any closer. Butch was almost sad about that. Angry as he was, he could’ve used a target.
    â€œDid you go on a dating site?” Paris asked. “Did you submit a profile?”
    There was no point in attempting to deceive her. If she wanted the truth, all she had to do was search dating sites. Or go to that Moretti woman, who probably had a copy of his profile. Why give Paris a reason to do that? They had to stick together at all costs.
    When he didn’t answer, Paris lowered her head. “That’s what I thought.”
    â€œI didn’t kill her,” he insisted.
    She shaded her face, apparently eyeing the little puffsof dust that’d been kicked up by the police cars. “It says quite a bit about you that I’m relieved to hear it.”
    The sarcasm bit deep, made him bristle. “It’s not as if you’re perfect, Paris.”
    â€œAt least I can be faithful.”
    â€œI can’t help it. Sex is all I think about.”
    â€œAnd now you were the last person to see a woman who went missing. Don’t you realize what that means? What if she’s dead? What if they find her body and it has your DNA on it? They’ll put you behind bars!”
    â€œI wasn’t the last one to see April Bonner alive. There’s no way. Unless she killed herself, someone else had to be involved.”
    When his wife didn’t respond, he looked over and found her watching him carefully. “You believe me, don’t you?” he said.
    Sighing, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I know is if this Moretti woman keeps digging, our son could lose his father.”
    â€œDon’t talk like that. Moretti’s done here.” He could only hope that was true, that this wouldn’t go in the direction Paris feared. When he was a boy, his stepfather used to punish him by locking him in a box the size of a coffin out in a metal shed. During the summer, he’d nearly suffocate. Small, confined spaces still terrified him. He already knew he could never bear living in a jail cell.
    â€œHow do you know she’s done?” she asked.
    â€œBecause I’ll make sure of it.”
    â€œWho was she?”
    He could tell by the change in her tone that she wasn’t referring to the investigator. “Who are you talking about? April Bonner?”
    â€œWho else?” She sounded weary, as if this incidentmight get the best of her despite how hard she’d fought to keep their family together.
    He could easily recall April’s kind brown eyes, her timid but eager smile, her round cheeks, her body, soft from lack of exercise. They’d exchanged some intriguing e-mails, but she hadn’t turned out to be his type at all. “No one. She was just a…a means to an end. You know that. That’s all it ever is.”
    â€œWhat happened with her that was so different from all the others?”
    â€œNothing. The night didn’t end well, I’ll admit that. You know how I get sometimes. But I didn’t kill her.”
    Paris shoved her hands in her pockets. “It has to stop, Butch.”
    He slipped his arm through hers and was gratified when she leaned into him. He hadn’t lost her yet. And he never would. “It will. I promise. Don’t give up on me. We’ve come so far. We can get through this, too.”
    Â 
    Francesca had canceled her credit cards and cell service. She’d also left a message with a locksmith, asking him to contact her first thing in the morning. Now that she was finished with everything, at least everything she could do after hours, she was lying in bed, pretty sure she’d never had a more miserable afternoon. She’d been involved in some tragic cases—peripherally when she was with