“Different?” Kitty leaned forward, encouraging him to open up. “Good or bad?”

“Maybe good. I don’t know.” So many emotions crossed his face that Kitty couldn’t keep up with them all. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

“I’m listening,” she said. “I could do with something maybe good.”

He made a sound that was almost a laugh, mostly a sigh, then finished his beer and looked at her through bloodshot eyes. “I may have inadvertently stumbled upon a person of interest—someone who might provide information about my wife’s disappearance.”

“Holy shit!” For one second, all of Kitty’s hurts and woes disappeared, eclipsed by the hope she felt for Luke. It was bright enough to lift her in her seat and touch her eyes with delight.

“It might come to nothing,” he said. “Or it could be everything.”

“Tell me,” Kitty urged. “Shit, Luke, tell me all about it.”

The gratitude was in his eyes now. He got up from his seat, grabbed Kitty’s empty mug from the table, and walked through to the kitchen.

“You want another tea?”

“I’ll take a beer,” she said.

“How many Xanax have you had?”

“Not enough.”

Luke laughed, his face illuminated by the light inside the refrigerator. He reached past the yogurt and the orange juice—he’d been shopping—and came back with two bottles of Budweiser. He popped the top on one and handed it to her.

“Okay,” Kitty said, and took a drink. The beer was bitter and not exactly enjoyable, but it didn’t matter. She drank again.

“Okay,” Luke echoed, and started talking.

He told her about the night that Lisa disappeared, leaving nothing out. Kitty knew some of it, what she’d seen on the news and read online, but this was the first time she’d heard his side of things. She sensed the weight of his grief, and counted his pains, like crows on the roof of some rusty old truck. It was a wonder he hadn’t completely broken down. By the time he’d finished his story, there were four empty beer bottles on the table and the clock on the DVR read midnight.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“I think you might be on to something,” Kitty replied. “I don’t know where it will lead, but you need to find this guy—find out who he is.”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded. “All those photos of him at Stray Bullets. He has to be a regular. He probably lives in Nueva Vida.”

“I think so, too.”

Luke scratched his jaw, where the dark of his beard had started to grow back in. “I keep thinking that I should involve the police. This is their job, after all. But they’ve branded me guilty, like the rest of the world. I don’t know how diligently they’ll follow up.”

“I get it,” Kitty said. “You don’t want to take any chances.”