I’ve been hiding in New Mexico ever since.”

Iris gripped her pen. “Why did you run, Oscar?”

“Because I saw who came out of that house,” Oscar whispered, his voice cracking with a guilt that had fermented for five years. “It wasn’t Gavin. Gavin was at his workshop three miles away — I’d just talked to him on the phone.

The man who walked out of that house, carrying a heavy canvas bag and wearing a blood-stained striped shirt, was Jared.” He paused. “And there’s something else you don’t know, lady.

Something that’ll tear this whole state apart.”

“What is it, Oscar?”