Wait, what? "You killed Mason Patterson?" But, why? I almost dumped the last of the precious coffee, heart pounding, suddenly not so comfortable with the giant man/dog combination. My brain stuttered, needing clarification. I was alive. He could have left me out there to die. Not the act of a murderer, was it?

Bill shook his head, refused to look at me. "I didn't hurt Mason," he said. "He was my friend.

But that young sheriff will think it was me because I used to be ...