CHAPTER FORTYIn the cozy condo by the sea, silence fell as I digested Jamila’s story. She stared out the glass doors.
I cleared my throat. “The knife?”
Jamila flinched. She nodded once.
I took a steadying breath. Rising, I moved toward her. I crept, as if approaching a feral animal.
The sun had set and the room was cast in shadow. The dock lights glimmered. Jamila’s face shone with tears.
I eased beside her and lowered myself onto the sofa.
“If I hadn’t dropped the knife,” she said. “Bobby would still be alive.”
Jamila’s voice sounded choked, barely recognizable. I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight.
“No,” I said. “You don’t know that.”
“I shouldn’t have cut the tire. I shouldn’t have done anything …”
“How could you have known?” I hugged her harder. “You were very brav
