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“I’m saying if you had killed Olaf, I’d have given you a pass on it because Peter and Becca mean more to me than that.”

I took Olaf’s letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him. He read it while I watched his face. Nothing moved but his eyes. He had no reaction. “He’s a good man at your back, Anita.”

“You’re not suggesting I date Olaf?”

He almost laughed. “No, fuck no. Stay as far away from him as you can. If he comes to St. Louis, kill him. Don’t wait for him to deserve it. Just do it.”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“Not friend. Business associate. It’s not the same thing.”

“I agree someone needs to kill Olaf, but why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You trusted him enough to bring him here to your town.”

“Olaf has never had a girlfriend. He’s had whores and he’s had victims. Maybe it’s true love, but I think if he shows up and finds that you won’t be his little serial killer pin-up girl, that he’ll turn violent. You don’t want to know what he’s like when he’s violent, Anita. You really, really don’t.”

“You’re scared he’ll come after me.”

“If he shows in town, call me.”

I nodded. “I will.” I had other questions. “Riker’s house sprang a mysterious gas leak and blew to Kingdom Come. No survivors, no bodies, no evidence that we did shit, or that Riker and his men did shit. Was it Van Cleef?”

“Not him personally,” Edward said.

“You know the next question,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I can’t tell you, Anita. One of the conditions to leaving was to never talk about it with anyone. If I break that, they’ll come after me.”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He shook his head. “No, Anita, trust me on this one. Ignorance is bliss.”

“That is incredibly frustrating,” I said.

He smiled. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You love keeping secrets.”

“Not this one,” he said. There was something close to sadness in his eyes, and for the first time I realized for sure that once there had been a kinder, gentler version of Edward. He hadn’t been born this way. He’d been made like Frankenstein’s monster.

“No answers, huh?”

“No,” he said.

We stared at each other, but neither of us seemed impatient.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, what?” he asked.

I shrugged. “You won’t answer questions about your background, fine. Answer another one. Are you going to marry Donna?”

“If I say yes, what will you do?”

I sighed. “I was willing to kill you to keep you away from them when I got here. But what is love, Edward? You’re willing to give up your life for the kids. You’d do the same for Donna. She’s convinced you’re her dream man. It’s a good act. Becca told her what you did, what we did. Peter backed it. So in a way they all three know what you are, who you are. Donna’s cool with it.” I stopped talking.

“Was there an answer to my question in there somewhere?”

“I won’t do anything, Edward. You’re willing to die for them. If that’s not love, it’s so close I can’t tell the difference.”

He nodded. “Nice that I have your blessing.”

“You don’t,” I said. “But I don’t have room to throw stones at your personal life. So do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he said.

“Peter hasn’t told Donna what happened to him. He needs therapy for it.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“It’s not my secret to tell. Besides, you’re his would-be stepfather, and you know. I trust you to do the right thing by him, Edward. If he doesn’t want Donna to know, you’ll find a way around it.”

“You’re treating me like his father,” Edward said.

“How much did you see of what Peter did to Amanda?”

“Enough,” Edward said.

“He emptied the clip into her, Edward. He turned her face into spaghetti. The look in his face . . .” I shook my head. “He’s more your son than Donna’s and has been since he blew away his father’s killer when he was eight.”

“You think he’s like me?”

“Like us,” I said, “like us. I don’t know if you can rebuild someone that got that broken that early. I’m not a psychiatrist. Healing people’s not my job.”

“It’s not mine either,” he said.

“I never thought you missed the pieces of yourself