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"The false complaint. What he told me to make me go to Bozeman. What happened there. The texts. All of it."

Every part of me wanted to get back in the truck.

Eight miles. I could be in that barn in twenty minutes.

"Miss Marsh," Hutchins said. "You've had a night. This can wait."

"No, it can't."

Because that was the trade Derek had counted on. Boone out, silence in. Get the man home and let the rest of it go quiet, the way it had always gone quiet, the way it had gone quiet for three years. He had built his whole arithmetic on my wanting the trouble over more than I wanted the truth written down.

I was done trading.

He expected me to make Boone the bargain.

Boone out, silence in.

I was done trading.

Hutchins looked toward the window. Snow struck it in dry handfuls.

Then he reached for his glasses and put them on.

"All right," he said. "Sit down."

I sat.

Wet socks squelched faintly inside my boots.

He heard. His eyes lowered, then lifted again.

"You need dry clothes."

"I need to make the statement."

"You need both."

"The statement first."

A different man might have argued. Hutchins opened a fresh legal pad.

Before his pen touched it, he set it down again.

"Miss Marsh, I need to be clear about what you're asking."

"All right."

"The file we began in March documented unwanted contact and concerns. It gave my office background. It was not a sworn accusation of a specific criminal act."

"I know."

"This is different."

"I know."

"I'm going to explain it anyway." Hutchins folded his hands on the desk. "If you provide a sworn statement regarding Mr. Kane's conduct, it becomes evidence in an active investigation. The county attorney will review it. If charges are filed, the defense will receive it. Mr. Kane and his counsel will read what you say."

My stomach contracted.