Impossible. But what else did he have? He could not tuck tail, give up, slink back to Bree, and sit with her through the long hours of the night. Unendurable.

So he did his due diligence, driving to the neighborhood where Lexie’d grown up. Coral’s house, in person, looked so innocuous. Just a tidy frame ranch with a carport, like most of the others in this speck of a town crouched low between two mountains.

It was past nine-thirty, and knocking on doors this late in the country was a good way to get himself shot. He knocked anyway, starting with Coral’s old house. The new resident was a small, grumpy woman in her forties. Marshall could hear two or three other voices inside. Teenagers or older kids, squabbling.

He flashed his PI’s license and used the same lie he’d offered Gabrielle, about working for a law firm seeking the Pines with news about an inheritance. Both the story and the heavier southern accent he unleashed to tell it played well with her. It would be good for most anyone in this working-class, rural neighborhood with its tidy lawns and older, well-kept cars. He knew, because he’d grown up on a street much like this.

Back on Toby Leland’s block, folks would have assumed he was a cop or a bounty hunter or a loan shark, lying, seeking the Pines with bad intentions. Here the woman warmed near instantly. She’d only met Coral at the closing, she said, but she pointed out the houses of the residents who had lived here longest.

Marshall hit those houses first, talking to about ten neighbors in total. They’d all known the Pines well enough, as one said, “to borrow sugar from,” but none were truly close with Coral. She had left no forwarding address. Only one couple had even known she was ill, and she’d downplayed it with them. They had no idea where she might be now.

He was grinding. If this led him to Lexie, it would take a level of luck most lottery winners didn’t get. Maybe he should ask around at the sparse local businesses? He’d seen a DQ and a gas station with a hot bar in it on the way. Close. Perhaps someone working in one of those places had known the Pines. He should hurry. They would close soon, and every minute that passed felt like time shaved off of Robert’s already so-brief life.

He was walking back to his car when his phone rang.

Bree. He knew it, heartsick. He didn’t want to answer. She was a single, exposed nerve. She would know from his hello how poorly things were going. He looked at the caller ID and saw it was Gabrielle. Her name was a reprieve.

“Hey,” he said.

“They knew the Dentons!” She yelled it, almost.