“No, cautious. One of us has to be. Down. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hopped down—the other way. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then he scrambled down the steps . . . to see me standing on an intact planter below, grinning at him.

He crossed his arms, pinned me with a look, and then shook his head. “I suppose I should be glad you bounce back from trauma so quickly.”

“I have to, don’t I?” I said as I hopped off the planter. “Given how quickly the traumas come these days. It’s that or assume the fetal position and wait for the white coats.”

I looked out toward the lake again. As he turned, he blinked, and then stared at the gorgeous ruined terraces, green-choked fountains and pools, an endless cascade of gardens and patios and water features leading down to the shore of Lake Michigan.

“Did I say it was amazing?” I said. “I’m serious, too. I want one of these.”

“With a five-million-dollar trust fund? You’d be lucky to get a house on the lake at all.”

“Your pragmatism will not deter me. I don’t want a house, anyway. I just want this.” I waved at the terraces. “I’ll find my own ruins, where I can hide away with a book and a bottle of wine and contemplate the impermanence of empires.”

“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair?”

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare the lone and level sands stretch far away.” I gazed out at the sands below. “Fitting, don’t you think? And deservedly so.” After what happened here, I meant. The girl was right. The beauty I saw here was the revenge of nature, destroying the claims of interlopers and murderers.

“You could possibly buy the property with your trust,” he said. “I suspect there would be significant back taxes, but the trick would be to first secure the right to sever the property and obtain development permits and then divide it and sell most of the land for vacation condos. If done right, you could even turn a profit.”

I smiled at him. “Very practical. And not the nature of fancies at all, Gabriel. I wouldn’t buy it, and I’d certainly never sell it for development. I’ll just bring my book and my wine and trespass like ordinary folk.”

He nodded and looked out at the view. “If the girl is gone . . .”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t send those e-mails.”

“Though it sounded as if she gave you some idea what you were brought here for.”

I hesitated.

“Olivia . . .” He moved in front of me, blocking both the sunlight and the view.

I started down the marble steps. “To your left and to your right, you’ll see what appear to be matching horse fountains, though I don’t know why horses are leaping out of water.”