Reyes and the state trooper had searched the red brick buildings, but not the house where the foreman once lived. They didn’t know it was part of the same parcel. It had a separate driveway but no registered street address. It was as though it didn’t exist at all.

Except it did.

And then . . .

Vodka.

Reyes talked about his childhood and what had happened to him after he killed that boy. Nic had confided in him about Annie and the guilt she still carried. The afternoon became evening.

I guess we’re the same that way.

And then . . .

I can’t believe my father . . .

Don’t go there. Let’s see what more we find.

And then . . .

I can’t believe Kurt did this . . .

Don’t take it personally. It’s just money.

And then . . .

Easy for you to say. There was a night—when I was here the first time.

The night at the bar?

Yeah.

You were pretty lit.

Something happened.

I remember.

What do you mean?

In the back. You and Kurt.

How did you know that? Did he tell you?

Then silence.

Then recognition.

You were there? You saw us?

Reyes motioned to the waitress.

“Another round,” he said. Then to Nic, “I think we’re going to need it now.”

Nic protested. “No, no—I can’t. Not after what you just told me. I can’t believe you saw me with Kurt, with anyone, like that.”

Reyes drained what was left in his glass. Then his face got serious, mirroring hers. He reached out and took her hand. “It’s no big deal. So you made out with a complete stranger in a completely strange town. It happens.”

This got a slight smile out of her. Thank God for vodka. Her father was receding from her mind as the conversation turned to flirtatious banter.

“It shouldn’t, though. It shouldn’t happen. That’s not who I am.” Then she reconsidered. “It’s not who I used to be, anyway.”

He leaned back and nodded. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“Not possible,” Nic said. “These past five years have been such a mess. I’ve been such a mess.”

The drinks came. Reyes took his, but then waved off the vodka tonic for Nic.

“No—wait.” She reached for the drink, grabbing it from the tray before the waitress could leave.

“It wasn’t right away,” Nic explained. “After my sister died, I felt like I had to make up for her being gone, you know? I actually tried harder. Got better grades. Stopped going out with my friends, doing things teenagers do. Shopping, movies, texting all day about stupid shit on the Internet. But it didn’t last.”

“Because of the hollow spaces you told me about—last night. I get it. Is that when you started drinking?”