My phone rings after dinner. Seeing the sheriff’s number on the caller ID, I choose to answer on speaker phone. “This is Madison,” I greet. “Hamilton is with me, and I’ve put you on the speaker.”

“I have an update,” the sheriff informs. “Although the toxicology report hasn’t arrived, we have a suspect in custody and a signed full confession.”

I feel as though I’ve been punched. I attempt to pull in a breath without success. I pull my knees to my chest ...