Bell finally drove home around 9:00 P.M. Now, each time he drove by Samantha’s kiosk, there would be no more questions. He knew exactly what happened to her, in such minute detail that part of him wished he’d never heard it. He knew exactly the route Keyes took that night. He knew every opportunity Samantha had to escape. Bell was a father, too, and now he had more sorrowful sites in his personal constellation of landmarks: an arrest, a shooting, a body. He called his wife and told her he’d be home soon, weeping on the way.
