“No, Lisa. Marty’s bitch wife. It was her fault. Her idea.”

I glanced at Gabriel. He was thinking fast, his gaze gone distant, but no answer seemed to be forthcoming quickly enough.

“Is that what Marty told you?” I said.

“It’s the truth. He always told me the truth. She tricked him into marrying her, and then she threatened to hurt him if he left. She tricked him into the other thing, too, and threatened him if he told anyone.”

“He was ex-military and twice her size.”

“That doesn’t matter. She knew stuff—satanic stuff. She was evil.”

Gabriel’s eyes snapped wide, as close to a genuine Holy shit look as he could manage. Luckily, being under the truck, Imogen couldn’t see us staring dumbfounded at each other.

In fishing for a connection, I’d been throwing my hook wide and blind, having no idea what could connect the two couples. This hadn’t occurred to me.

“That’s why they did it,” I said. “Witchcraft.”

“Satanism,” Imogen said. “It’s not the same thing.” A two-second pause. Then, belatedly, “I mean, that’s what the bitch was into. I don’t know what you mean about why they did it. Did what? I never said anything.”

“Um, yes, you said she made him do it. We both know what we’re talking about, Imogen.”

“I never said—”

“Marty and Lisa killed Amanda Mays and Ken Perkins.”

Another two seconds, during which I heard her breathing. Then a weak, “What? You’re crazy. I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to,” I said, and walked away.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Was it possible that the Tysons had killed the first two victims? While my gut embraced it, my brain threw up a stop sign. It was like saying . . . well, it was like saying Cainsville had been settled by fairies. Seemingly preposterous.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said as we slid into his car. I hadn’t asked a question. I didn’t have to. “We need to break it down.”

He started the car. When I said nothing by the first turn, he glanced at me and jerked his chin. I knew what he meant. Work this out aloud for him.

“There are a bunch of questions we’d need answered before we could seriously consider it,” I said. “Questions that we can’t get answers to, because the suspects are dead. Long dead. Where were Lisa and Marty on the night of the Mays and Perkins murders? Do they have an alibi? Any chance we can put them in the vicinity? Any chance of finding the murder weapon? That’s all gone, washed away by time. They were never suspects, so there’s no way to answer those questions now.”

A quick look. I understood that one, too. Don’t dwell on what we can’t answer.

“The big connection, then, is the so-called satanism,” I said as I took out my notebook and started writing. “We might be able to dig up something. Getting details from Imogen would help. Once we’ve come up with a list of questions for her, we can use her mother to our advantage. The woman doesn’t want anyone messing with her baby. We can convince her that there’s no way to avoid that, and compared to the police, we’re the lesser evil. Obviously, the police would still speak to her after we made our case, but I don’t think Imogen or her momma are bright enough to realize that.”

“Agreed.” Gabriel paused. “We can convince her to talk. The fact she withheld evidence and watched your parents be convicted of the murders would be important leverage.”

“Blackmail.”

“Persuasion. With an implied penalty for failure to be persuaded.”

“I’ll let you handle that,” I said. “Back to the witchcraft or whatever. That could explain why we never connected the ritual to anything else. There are elements of Druidism, but nothing that more strongly suggested an actual fae influence. If it was the Tysons who devised the ritual, it would be exactly what your experts concluded: a mishmash of elements taken from God-knows-where. If the Tysons killed the first victims, then they established the pattern, meaning the pattern itself would be meaningless. The ritual elements. The method. The locations. Even the day of the week.” I stopped writing. “But that was significant. It was my parents’ date night.”

“I would suspect Friday is a popular date night. Meaning a good time for the Tysons to find a couple.”

I nodded and made a note of that. “Wait—what about the eyewitness who ID’d my parents as the people fleeing the first crime scene? She picked them out of a lineup, right?”

“Yes, but if I recall correctly, the Tysons were roughly the same age, body type, and coloring. They didn’t resemble one another in any significant way, but if the witness spotted them from a distance, it would be close enough, particularly if the lineup was skewed. I’ll look into that further.”

“If the Tysons killed Mays and Perkins, then my parents were following their pattern. Trying to hide the crime by emulating the victims’ own crimes. Which would throw a serious wrench into any investigation.”

“It would have been an even bigger wrench if there had been any forensic evidence with the first couple. Fingerprints. DNA. I could have gotten your parents off with that. It’s reasonable doubt.”

“Just their bad luck, then, that the Tysons were good. Or lucky. Which may also explain why the Cwn Annwn took an interest. If they needed my parents to commit murders and their purview is killing killers, the Tysons would have been an ideal case. They left no clues, so they stood little chance of being caught and convicted.” I paused, thinking it through. “Chandler and Evans copycatted their murders with Jan and Pete—after my parents copied the Tysons. So the chances that someone else murdered the third pair, in yet another act of copying . . .”