They left the bar and crossed the road to a bluff that overlooked a small half-moon beach, then cut north and picked up a path built into a cliff. Harry took Caitlin’s hand to help her over a wide, slick slab of shale, and then held on to it as they continued to walk. It was a perfect day, the air crisp and the sun warm, and no one else was on the path. They ducked to go through a tunnel of stunted trees that had been twisted by the wind, and when they emerged on the other side, Harry bent and picked up a bouquet of berry-covered branches tied together by a strand of grass.

“See?” he said.

“Is this where your father—”

“I’m pretty sure. It’s the highest point, and I know that he went over the edge and landed down below. Someone hit him first, though.”

“That was how Grace was killed as well. Someone hit her on the head.” Caitlin looked out toward the shimmery line where the ocean met the sky. “They didn’t suffer, I guess,” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

They walked a little farther, Caitlin taking Harry’s hand again. The path twisted inland around another copse of wind-gnarled trees, and Harry turned to Caitlin and they began to kiss, only stopping when Caitlin realized she had begun to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said.

“No, don’t be. It’s just confusing, but the kiss was nice. It was intense.”

“It was, but maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I’ve heard it’s a reaction to grief. To feel—”

“To feel horny?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say it, but—”

They kissed more, their bodies pressing together, and Caitlin knew that if they’d been alone in a room their clothes would already be off. The feeling unnerved her, and she pulled away fractionally. He immediately did, as well.

“Should we keep walking?” he asked.

“Okay.”

They continued to the end of the cliff walk, then turned and walked into the wind back to the Kennewick Inn. There, at her car, Harry kissed Caitlin again, but briefly. He put a hand on the side of her neck.

“What now?” she asked.

“Maybe I could come see you at your motel room later? I could say good-bye.”

“Okay. I’m in 203.”

“It might be late. Alice is making dinner, and like I said, she likes to have me in the house.”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”