It was much later than that when he awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He fumbled for it on the bedside table, knocking over the empty water glass, which hit the floor and shattered.

“Shit!” he said, looking at the pieces.

“Pardon?” said a voice, and Hudson realized that he’d managed to answer the call.

“No,” he said quickly. “I mean, hello. Who is this?”

“It’s Ben Ransome.”

Hudson had to think hard to recall where he’d heard the name before. Then, in a rush, it all came back to him: Monterey, Ricketts, coffee. “Ben,” he said, relieved. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Ben said.

Hudson glanced at the clock. It was after nine. “No,” he said. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Well,” said Ben, “I was calling to see if you might be free for dinner tonight. At my house. I thought we could continue our conversation about Steinbeck and Ricketts.”

“Dinner,” Hudson repeated. “Sure. That sounds great. What time?”

“How about seven?” Ben suggested.

“Seven is fine,” said Hudson.

“Great,” said Ben. “Here’s the address.” Hudson searched for a pen and scribbled down the address Ben gave him. “I’ll see you tonight,” Ben said when he was done.

Hudson barely had time to respond in kind before the call was ended. He set the phone on the table and stared at it. He was filled with a vague sense of unease. But why? He knew it had nothing to do with Ben Ransome or his call. It was something left over from the night. He’d been dreaming about something, but now he couldn’t remember what it was. An image lurked in the recesses of his thoughts, just out of sight. He tried to call it forth, but it retreated swiftly.

He noticed the papers strewn over the bed, and remembered. The dog. He saw it emerge from the darkness, its tail wagging hopefully. That’s what it was, he told himself. It was just the dog.

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 22

“Can anyone tell me how deep the Monterey Canyon is?”

A young man, his face bearing the harsh red eruptions of new acne, raised his hand. “Two thousand feet?” he said hesitantly.

“Try again,” Ben said as the boy looked down at the floor and rubbed self-consciously at a spot on his chin.

He waited for someone else to speak but was met with a sea of blank faces. After a full minute had passed, he sighed and gave them the answer. “The canyon bottom reaches a depth of around eleven thousand eight hundred feet,” he announced.