He looked at the snapshot for another moment and slid it into his windbreaker. For a second he thought he was going to cry, then suddenly he shut the Valkyrie’s log and tossed it back on the piles of boat gear. The Valkyrie was gone too. He had sailed to Hawaii and back on the Valkyrie, had ridden out a Pacific hurricane near Los Cabos, had spent many of his memorable times with Zoe on the Valkyrie. The craft was so intertwined with Zoe that it seemed almost fitting they were both gone, taken from him by insane men who would stop at nothing in their quest to possess a missing painting by a mediocre Nazi painter.

Patting the snapshot in his pocket, Seth turned away from the piles of boat gear, and headed for the door that led from the garage into the kitchen. He thought of Stratton, Weinstock, the killer on the dock. They all wanted the painting he had, wanted it badly, and that alone was reason enough for him to keep it away from them… for now. It was his only leverage. Zoe’s fate, and his, too, for that matter, were intertwined with the painting. He’d let somebody have it only when he was sure he’d get Zoe back.

If she’s still alive.

She has to be, he thought. She has to be.

Seth pushed his way past the door and into the dark kitchen. He closed the door behind him and stood in the deepening darkness, for a moment. The heavy staleness of a house shut tight filled his nostrils. A feeble light filtering in from the dying sunset dusted the edges of the cabinets and counters and reflected weakly off the appliances. He looked at the Cuisinart Zoe had given him for his birthday the year they were married. He had enjoyed cooking then. Since Zoe’s disappearance, he had taken to eating cold cuts and TV dinners.

Without turning on the light, he made his way from the kitchen, through the dining foom, and into the living room. Zoe’s touch was everywhere. There was nowhere he could look that was free from something she had done, some article she had given him, or he her. He closed his eyes as he fought back the inevitable tears. His eyes tingled for an instant and then he opened them and wiped at his face with his hand as if he could rub away the sadness. He sniffed once and then walked to the bay window. The spider plant Zoe had hung there had turned into a dried brown mop. He started to turn from the window to get the watering can when he saw it. A light-colored Toyota parked on the other side of the street, four houses down.

Keeping his eye on the Toyota and the man who sat behind the wheel, Seth slowly backed into the protective darkness of the living room. The car was familiar. He closed his eyes and tried to place it. In traffic. Definitely in traffic on the drive home from the marina. But somewhere else. Where?