“I grabbed his handlebars at eleven sixteen and tossed the bike in the truck bed.”

“Right,” Mariana said.

“Look at the time on your mother’s phone record,” I said, tapping the glass.

“Before she called an ambulance, before she called you, and before she ever drove to her lunch date downtown.”

Mariana leaned forward, her eyes scanning the tiny blue numbers beside the outgoing calls.

“Eleven o’clock,” Mariana read out loud.

“She called her defense attorney at eleven in the morning,” I said, tapping my index finger twice on the glowing screen.

“Lily was still trapped in that airless garage freezer, and your mother was already setting up her legal defense.”