I didn’t know why I had driven to his house. It was like I was on autopilot. He hurried out to the car, looking worried. “Lain, you okay?” He was the second person to ask that and as the day was getting on, the answer was getting worse. I shook my head, unsure as to why my autopilot would bring me to his house or what I was honestly going to say. How did I tell him everything my father had told me? How did I say that all my leads had died off and that I was one step closer to being charged with my friend’s murder? Instead of talking, he did the thing I needed him to do. He wrapped himself around me, and he let me unload with deep sighs and silence. We stood like that for a long time before he pulled back. “Come inside.” I nodded and I let him lead me through the front door. Mr. Hanson, his butler, gave us a nod as he turned and left the foyer. His foyer was nicer than the rest of ours. His father had commissioned the chandelier to be renaissance-styled with cream-colored marble and crystal sconces placed along the walls of the circular entrance, making it all more opulent than the other houses I’d seen.
