Dr Smeltz bounded across the plaza, his multiple chins tucked against the rain, his brimmed hat dripping like a waterfall. He passed within ten feet of Peach, but he didn’t see her. The doctor got into an Audi and drove away, his tires throwing up a wave of water. She figured he was going home to his house by the lake, with the huge front yard that stretched to the beach. Lyle had taken her there once. It was one of the last things they’d done together. He’d said she needed a follow-up visit for her pneumonia, but he didn’t take her to the medical office. When they got to the doctor’s house, Dr Smeltz didn’t even examine her at all. Instead, she played on the lawn with Google, the doctor’s Westie puppy, while Lyle and Dr Smeltz talked inside.

Lyle had never told her what they talked about, but afterward, he’d gone to see a lawyer in Orlando.

Peach stood in the rain. The Gulf storm was warm, but she felt chilled. The plaza was empty. So was the main street, now that the two men had left. She saw no traffic, but she kept an eye open for police cars stalking the downtown area. The doctor’s building, which was low and built of tan brick and stucco, was deserted. The three tall windows facing the plaza were black. The wind nearly picked her up and carried her away. She hugged the trunk of a palm tree.

She thought about Cab Bolton. She’d spotted his car on the street, and she wanted to know where he was going. He’d seen her when he left the office, but she doubted that he would have recognized her in her disguise. She wondered what he wanted with Dr Smeltz. Him and Justin both. They had plucked this man from her past, and she didn’t understand why.

Or did she?

Staring at the clinic where she had gone dozens of times as a child, she realized that she knew exactly what they were looking for. She heard Cab’s voice in her head earlier that day. Two weeks before Labor Day, there was a problem at Birch’s estate. Something bad.

And then another voice. Her own voice. Talking to Justin. We walked into the middle of something.

Deacon had driven her to Birch’s estate on that awful Saturday night. The night of sickness and delirium. The night when they hit the deer. The night when her body was burning up and the nicest thing in the world was to have Caprice carry her to that lavish guest bedroom that smelled of vanilla and coconut and to see, hovering behind her, that smiling, fleshy, familiar face. Dr Smeltz. Her doctor. He would make everything better.

He was already there when we arrived.