“I used to go there when I first got Grendel, and when I was still . . . you know, a mess over my losses. I just wanted something to do to distract me, so the drive over and back didn’t bother me. I have more going on now, a little more control of my life. So I prefer to just walk him here. It’s more convenient.”

“So you went over to the dog park when you were drinking more and not at your best emotionally or mentally. Is that what you’re saying?”

It feels like she’s putting words in my mouth, but I don’t know what else to say. “That sounds about right. Sure.”

“I see.”

“Is there a reason you’re curious about my dog-walking habits?”

Bowman points to Grendel. “It looks like his tank is empty.”

Grendel is pulling against the leash, trying to drag me up the stairs and back into the house.

“Feed him or whatever you need to do,” Bowman says. “Then come on back out. It’s getting late.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Our ride to the station is about as awkward as it gets.

Bowman says nothing. The local public radio station plays the news—a series of disasters in China, Africa, America. Bowman keeps her eyes on the road. The headlights illuminate the road stained by salt, the traffic going against us streaming away from downtown. But the car is warm, and I follow Bowman’s lead by keeping my mouth shut.

She pulls around to the back of the station, where marked and unmarked vehicles are scattered. I’ve been to the station once before. When Emily and Jake died, I came down to answer a few questions that the authorities in Maine needed to have cleared up. I walked in the front door, and when I gave my name, the detective handling the case locally—a woman who retired about a year ago—met me at the front door and treated me about as gently as anyone ever has. We sat in her office while I answered all of her questions.

Did your wife and son know how to swim?

Had they been kayaking before?

Why were they in Maine?

Did anyone want to hurt them?

I answered truthfully. But my mind was reeling then, like someone had placed electrodes on both sides of my head and left the juice on for too long. I probably shouldn’t have been driving. I probably shouldn’t have been allowed to shave myself. My mind swam with memories of them. Everything. Meeting Emily our senior year of college at Michigan. The three of us horseback riding at Mammoth Cave when Jake was nine. The endless hours he and I spent in the driveway shooting baskets.