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"All I remember is that it was my half birthday," I said. "We were going for a pony ride."
When I saw his expression, I wished I hadn't said that. He felt bad enough.
"It's okay," I added. "I forgot all about it until recently."
"Maybe, but you never really forget. Any shrink would tell you that. Cream and sugar?"
"Cream, please."
He poured it. I got up to retrieve my cup from the counter, but he waved me down. "I've got it. Nine years in this thing, and I'm a pro."
He brought both coffees to the table. I thanked him and sipped mine.
"You have questions," he said. "And since my partner has passed on, it's down to me. What do you want to know?"
"Why they did it."
He winced. "Ah, hon, of all the questions . . ."
"It's the only one I need answered. The most important."
"You think they're guilty, then?"
I looked up, startled. "Don't you?"
He took a long sip of his coffee before answering. "All the evidence pointed that way. I didn't want to believe it. None of us did. We'd been to your house once, on a tip."
"Where you pretended to be warning people about a rash of break-ins."
"Yeah. We talked to your parents, and you were there, and we walked out thinking we were wrong, that it couldn't have been your folks, and we were glad of it. No one wants to think that about a nice young couple with a cute kid. They were good parents. Whatever else they are, remember that. Anyone could see they loved you very much."
"Thank you."
"So did I believe they did it once the evidence piled up? I guess so. There wasn't much of a choice. But when you and Walsh found that Chandler guy, I'll be perfectly honest, I . . . I didn't know what to think. There's always been a part of me that hated that case. Hated what happened. That's why my wife doesn't like me talking about it. Too many sleepless nights, wondering if we'd put the right people in jail. Now that there's doubt, I should be happy, right? It's not like I'll catch any fallout. I'm retired, and this"--he banged the chair's side--"makes me a goddamn hero. No one's saying I screwed up. They don't dare."
"But you aren't happy we've raised that doubt."
"I . . . I don't know." He paused. "You won't want to hear this, but where there's smoke, there's fire. I cannot believe the system locked up two completely innocent people."
"Which is why Gabriel Walsh and I are still investigating. Let's say they did it. Why? I know motive is the prosecution's concern, but you must have had theories."
He sighed. "No, I didn't. That was the toughest part. Why would they do it? It wasn't about sex or thrills. I've seen my share of both. The prevailing theory, as you well know, was witchcraft."
"You don't believe that?"
He fingered his half-empty cup. "I always thought it was the best answer. The only sane answer, as insane as it was. But it still takes you back to the original question, doesn't it? Why?"
I looked at him.
"Why conduct such a ritual?" he said. "No one seemed interested in answering that. I suppose, if they tried, they'd just list the usual reasons people commit regular old murder all the time. Money, power, revenge . . . But none of that fits your parents. Anyone who spent five minutes with them knew they weren't inter
ested in that. They only cared about each other. And of course--"
His gaze went to mine and he stopped himself, as he realized what he was about to say, to imply. That there were only two reasons the Larsens would commit murder. For each other. And for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
If Gabriel was seething before, he'd hit a roiling boil when I refused to answer my phone. I wasn't trying to piss him off, but the angrier he got, the more annoyed I got.
