People think meditation clears the mind. That’s nonsense. You can’t clear the mind. The harder you try not to think about something, the more you will think about it. You need to allow the thoughts in if you really want to relax. You learn to observe them and not judge or react. So that was what Myron did now.

He thought about seeing Win again, about Esperanza and Big Cyndi, about his mother and father down in Florida. He thought about his brother, Brad, and his nephew, Mickey, and about the changes in their lives. He thought about Terese finally being back in his life, about their impending marriage, about starting a life with her, about the sudden, tangible possibility of happiness.

He thought about how shockingly fragile it all felt.

Eventually, the plane landed, slowed, taxied. When it came to a complete stop, Mee pulled the handle and opened the door. She gave him a wide smile. “Good luck, Myron.”

“Same to you, Mee.”

“Tell Win I say hello.”

Chapter 3

The Bentley was waiting for him on the tarmac. As Myron started down the steps, the back door opened. Win came out.

Myron hurried his step, feeling his eyes brim with tears. When he was ten feet away from his friend, he stopped, blinked, smiled.

“Myron.”

“Win.”

Win sighed. “You’re going to want to make this a moment, aren’t you?”

“What’s life without them?”

Win nodded. Myron stepped forward. The two men hugged fiercely, hanging on as though the other were a life preserver.

Still holding on, Myron said, “I have a million questions.”

“And I’m not going to answer them.” They both let go. “We need to concentrate on Rhys and Patrick.”

“Of course.”

Win gestured for Myron to get in the back. Myron did so, sliding across to make room for Win. The Bentley was a black stretch. The privacy window to the driver was up. There were only two seats, lots of legroom, a stocked bar. Most stretches have more seating. Win didn’t see the need.

“A drink?” Win asked.

“No, thanks.”

The car started to move. Mee was by the plane door. Win lowered his window and waved. She waved back. There was a wistful look on Win’s face. Myron just stared at his friend, his best friend since their freshman year at Duke University, afraid that if he looked away, Win might vanish again.

Win said, “She has a top-quality derriere, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh. Win?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been in London the whole time?”

Still looking out the window, Win said, “No.”

“Where, then?”

“Many places.”

“There were rumors.”

“Yes.”

“They said you’d become a recluse.”

“I know.”

“Not true?”

“No, Myron, not true. I created those rumors.”

“Why?”

“Later. Right now we need to concentrate on Patrick and Rhys.”

“You said you saw Patrick.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Believe so?”

“Patrick was six when he disappeared,” Win said. “He would be sixteen now.”

“So there was no way you could get an exact ID on him.”