The accomplice never quite manages that.

The accomplice goes along, out of love or fear or greed or some tangle of all three, but a part of them always knows, and that knowing lives in the eyes and cannot be fully hidden.

Michael had authored our tragedy and believed himself the wronged party.

Rachel had only signed on, and could not meet my gaze.

I knew, watching her flinch, that she would be the one who broke first, because the accomplice almost always does.

The judge had heard her too.