Most of the convoy had continued toward the next charity event after Colter assured them he would catch up.
Tess remained.
So did Dale.
Nobody had asked them to.
Some friendships were built less from years than from moments in which leaving simply felt wrong.
Anna turned the brass tag over again.
“I keep trying to remember that night.”
Noah glanced toward her.
“The night your father came home?”
“Yes.”
“Anything?”
“Pieces.”
Anna closed her eyes.
“A wet coat hanging near the door.”
“My mother crying in the kitchen.”
“A man kneeling in front of me.”
She swallowed.
“But I don’t know whether I remember it or whether I’m creating it because you told me.”
Colter sat in the chair opposite her.
“That can happen.”
Anna looked at him.
“You sound like you know.”
“My wife used to say memory is a terrible witness and a wonderful storyteller.”
“You were married?”
“For twenty-three years.”
Anna waited.
Colter glanced toward the hills.
“She died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
He did not add anything else.
Anna sensed that there was more beneath the answer.
She also understood now that beneath almost every answer lived something more.
Lily leaned against her.
“Grandpa Thomas came home when you were little?”
Anna ran a hand through her daughter’s tangled hair.
“Apparently.”
“Did Grandma know?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell you?”
Anna looked toward the ruined cabin.
“That’s what we’re trying to understand.”
Harriet Sloan approached carrying the photocopied map.
“We found the old ventilation passage.”
Noah stood immediately.
“Is it accessible?”
“Partially.”
“Can we go in?”
“No.”
Harriet’s answer was so immediate that even Colter smiled.
She pointed toward the tree line.
“The old route beneath the cabin is unstable.”
“But approximately forty yards east there’s another entrance hidden behind a collapsed retaining wall.”
“Does it reach the second room?”
“We think so.”
Anna tried to stand.
Tess put a hand on her shoulder.