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Four rings.

Five.

Then the line opened.

"Bluebird."

Marnie's voice. Awake. No diner warmth laid over it yet.

"Marnie, it's Josie."

A beat.

"Hon."

One word, and I nearly lost the clean line of my voice.

"I'm sorry to call this early."

"You calling means you need to."

"I don't know if I do." I swallowed. "I'm not asking you for anything."

Silence. The listening kind.

"You've probably heard that Boone is in a cell," I said. "But I'm telling you he didn't do anything. Derek framed him for assault behind the Rusty Spur. He used Boone's prior conviction to make it believable. Same place. Same story everybody already knows."

The line went very quiet.

Wind hit the side of the truck and shoved. I corrected, gentle, no brakes.

"Marnie?"

"I'm here."

"I got proof. I sent it to the sheriff. But they still have Boone, and the storm is coming, and—" My voice broke once. I flattened it again. "The old conviction is why Hutchins had probable cause. I'm not asking you for anything, but… I thought you should know."

Marnie breathed into the phone.

When she spoke, the diner register was gone.

"Is Boone hurt?"

"No."

"You?"

"No."

"Where are you?"

"Driving back."

"In this?"

"Yes."

A longer silence.