“They told you that?” Myron said.

“Just that way. They advised us to give them a little time and see if they could dig up any leads quietly.”

“I assume they haven’t.”

“Correct. Rhys, it seems, has vanished without a trace. Again.”

Again.

And again her eyes closed. And again Myron reached his hand out. And again Win stopped him with a shake of his head. Win wasn’t being cold. He just didn’t want her to fall apart yet. Myron got it.

“So the investigators,” Win said, “they changed their suggestion?”

“No,” Brooke said, “I did. I decided. My choice. We go public. Will that help find my son or kill him? Don’t know. Nice, right?”

“It’s the right move,” Win said. “It’s the only move.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

Myron saw Brooke’s two fists tighten. Her face started to redden, and when it did, Brooke suddenly looked like her cousin Win, or at least you could see the family resemblance. When Brooke spoke again, there was an edge in her voice.

“So now you think I should have a say in what happens to my son?”

Win did not reply.

“You received an anonymous email,” Brooke said.

“Yes.”

“You showed up and ended up killing three guys.”

“Louder,” Win said. “I think the gentlemen in the corner didn’t hear you.”

But Brooke was having none of it. “Why didn’t you tell me about the email?”

“It was anonymous. I figured that it would go nowhere.”

“Bullshit,” Brooke said. “You found it credible enough to check it out.”

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you tell me, Win?”

No reply.

“Because you thought I’d fall apart? Because you didn’t want to get my hopes up?”

Silence.

“Win?”

He turned and faced her full on. “Yes,” he said. “That’s why.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

He spread his hands. “Yet make it I did.”

“What, you think I couldn’t take it? You think you were sparing me additional pain?”

“Something like that.”

“You know nothing about my pain.” Brooke leaned in closer. “How dare you? How dare you decide that for me?”

She stared at him hard. Win said nothing.

“Win?”

“You’re right,” he said. “I should have told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be, Brooke.”

“No, sorry, you don’t get off that easily. Maybe if you told me about the email, I would have flown over. Maybe I could have helped in some way. Maybe—no, definitely—things would have gone differently.”

Win said nothing.

“Instead,” Brooke said, pointing out the window of the pub, “my boy is still out there. Alone. You messed up, Win. You messed up big-time.”

“Let’s slow down a second,” Myron said. “We don’t know if that would have changed—”

Brooke snapped her gaze toward Myron, cutting him off. “Is Rhys here, Myron?”

Now it was Myron who said nothing.

“Bottom line: Is he here?” She turned back to her cousin. “We had our first real lead in ten years. In ten horrible, miserable years. And now . . .”