Movement drew her eye, and she turned to see a bird land on the windowsill. It was a raven. Common to California, though she was more used to crows. The bird was about two feet from beak to tail feathers and looked like he’d been freshly rinsed in gleaming oil. Black on black on black. The starlight traced the contours of his feathers and sparkled in the small black eyes.

Junie touched a finger to the pane. “Nevermore,” she said and immediately regretted the joke. It was the wrong word to use. “Pretty bird,” she said, trying to fix the moment and cancel any accidental jinx.

Then she picked up the phone and punched in a number. It rang five times, and just when Junie expected it to go to voice mail, a woman answered.

“Well, I guess I’m not the only night owl drinking too much coffee and burning the midnight oil,” said Doc Holliday. “How are you doing, sugar lumps?”

“Jane,” said Junie, “I’m just about going crazy here.”

Doc sighed. Long and heavy and dramatic. “Oh, honey, if you’re calling in the hopes that this ol’ gal has some news about your honeybunny, then I have to be the bad guy. I don’t know where Joseph is, and that is the God’s honest.”

“Is he alive?” begged Junie.

“I’d bet my whole stack of original Dolly Parton albums on vinyl he’s alive.”

“Is he safe?”

There was a pause, and when Doc spoke again, there was much less of her country girl affectation. “If you were someone else, I’d spin a big pack of lies, but I know you have enough sawdust for the straight truth, Junie-girl. The plain truth is that I don’t know. We don’t know. But that’s also the nature of the job.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Mr. Church can fire me if he wants to—which he won’t. Joe’s out in the field, and for reasons that he hasn’t shared, he’s gone off on his own. And before you ask, that is all I know.”

Junie covered her mouth with her hand.

“God…,” she breathed.

Outside the window, the raven opened his mouth and uttered a high, soft, sad cry.

CHAPTER 31

HÔTEL BYBLOS

20 AVENUE PAUL SIGNAC

SAINT-TROPEZ, FRANCE

Michael Augustus Stafford sprawled on the bed and watched her walk naked across the room.