Scott Canton sat two tables away with a young man. His muscular companion wore an olive-green T-shirt tucked into neatly pressed khakis. An old poet and a young warrior, talking over green teas.

Caitlin walked over. “Guess who didn’t leave town?”

They turned like she’d caught them conspiring, but Scott broke into a smile. “What a lovely surprise. Caitlin, my friend and I are finishing up a private conversation. Mind if I catch you in a second?”

She nodded, stepped back. “Please do—sorry to interrupt. I’ve got work to do anyway.”

She returned to her laptop, powered up, created a folder named “Chapman,” and started her notes.

Angela Chapman. Missing two years. Sophomore at the time. Would be a senior now.

“Two years,” she said, drew a thumb across her lip.

“I’m sorry?”

She looked up, saw the waitress, ready for a drink order.

“Beer,” Caitlin said to the woman with the ponytail to her waist. “Do you have Singha?”

The waitress nodded, left a menu. Caitlin went back to work.

Two persons of interest. Ex-boyfriend and friend, both older, now graduated. Not enough evidence to bring to trial.

She noticed a brown bottle of Thai beer that had materialized without interruption, took a sip.

Who was Angela Chapman? Big change in personality from high school. Party girl with Goth style.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waitress again. Caitlin sent her on a mission for dumplings and a house salad, then started a new paragraph.

If Angela died, why hide the body? Drugs, evidence of sexual abuse? Could the suspects afford to pay someone to make things go away? Could they do it themselves, as in physically, logistically?

She started another thought.

If Woods had killed me, could he have made me disappear?

She stared at the screen, her finger over “Delete.”

“Here you go.” The waitress delivered a plate of warm dumplings.

Caitlin could smell the garlic, onion, and hot oil of the sha-shas. “What happened to the salad?”

“I dropped it off five minutes ago.”

The waitress left. Caitlin tilted the screen, saw mixed greens. She hit “Save” and went to food enlightenment.

Scott Canton tapped on the end of her table. “She lied about the salad.”

Caitlin smiled through a swallow and gestured to the empty chair. “So sorry I interrupted. Please, sit.”

He did. “I heard your waitress say your salad had been there for five minutes, but she brought it with the dumplings.”

“Smooth move on her part. I don’t notice the outside world when I’m in my tunnel.”

“Your tunnel.” He scratched at his nose. “Funny you should say that. I was speaking with my young friend about one of my own tunnels when you approached.”

“Your time in Vietnam?”

He nodded. “And coming home. He’s about to finish his first year in college after two tours in Afghanistan. Life on campus can seem a bit surreal.”

“I’m sure. Better or worse?”