“Why not get the information directly from the friend?”
 
 “The friend in question is deceased, unfortunately.”
 
 Detective Mann frowns.“Seems convenient.”
 
 “You can call Tom,” I say.“He can corroborate my story.”
 
 Blake gives me anothershut up, Jasonlook.
 
 “Do you have a phone number?”Detective Mann asks.
 
 I pull out my phone, look at my most recent calls, and find the number.I show the phone to Detective Mann.“It’s this one.Note that the time of the call is right before I was at Ralph’s apartment.”
 
 Detective Mann writes down the number.“I’ll just be a moment, gentlemen.”
 
 She stands and leaves the room.
 
 Blake turns to me.“You really have to stop shooting from the hip in these questionings, Jason.Do you realize how easy it is for you to accidentally implicate yourself?”
 
 I roll my eyes.“All I did was tell the truth.”
 
 “Yes, and you’re not doing yourself any favors regarding the charge you’reactuallybeing questioned for.The more you talk about Ralph allegedly killing your wife, the more you solidify your motive for beating the shit out of him.”He takes a deep breath.“If you had let me handle the questions, I could have smoothed it out a bit more, made it clear that this in no way connects you to the battery charge.”
 
 “I don’t give a flying fuck about?—”
 
 The door opens.Detective Mann walks back in, her face pale.
 
 “That was quick,” I say.
 
 “Jason,please,” Blake hisses.
 
 Detective Mann sits back down at the table.“I called the number you gave me, Mr.Lansing.”
 
 “Did Tom answer?”
 
 Blake glares at me again.
 
 “No.It was his mother.”She narrows her eyes at me.“Mr.Chapman was found deceased early this morning.”
 
 ChapterThirty-Nine
 
 Angie
 
 I shake off the chill as best I can and turn back toward Ralph.“What the hell is that supposed to mean?I’m not digging for anything.”
 
 “Your sainted boyfriend isn’t who you think he is,” Ralph says.
 
 I hate that Ralph makes me doubt Jason.But the truth is that I barely know him.The thought rattles through my skull like a warning, but my heart doesn’t listen.It never does.Not when he looks at me like I’m something rare, something breakable, something he wants to keep.Not when he tells me he loves me.
 
 “I know exactly who Jason is,” I retort.“What I don’t understand is your need to hurt him.”I lean down, grab his shoulders.“For what, Ralph?Because I wouldn’t fuck you?Because I chose him over you?”
 
 Ralph locks eyes with me, holding my gaze for what feels like an eternity.There’s something unreadable in his expression—hesitation, maybe, or quiet amusement.As if he’s caught between words he can’t quite find and a thought he isn’t ready to share.
 
 “Why?”I demand again.“Why can’t you leave us both alone?”
 
 He chuckles then, wincing at the pain in his face.
 
 I can’t help a satisfied smile.I’ve never been one to revel in someone else’s pain, but I make an exception for Ralph.