She said, "But it's not just the sense of time running out that's bothering you, is it?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"A couple of things. One is the feeling that I'm too late, that too much time has passed, that no matter how hard I work this case, how long I stay with it, or how many people I talk to, I will fail to uncover the killer. I fear the information that could have solved this case is gone along with the people who held it, or that it's buried under ten years of more recent memories, or simply distorted the way old memories often are. The second thing that's weighing on me is that for all my efforts, I'm not sure I'm any closer to knowing who Esther Grunewald really was. I'm learning new things about her, some good and some bad, but who she really was still eludes me. It feels as if her true self is just around some nearby corner, but I don't know where that corner is, so I can't turn it." I sighed, running both hands over my tired face. "Am I making any sense?"

"Perfect sense," Greta said. "You feel like you're chasing a ghost."

"Maybe you're right. Maybe that's it."

"And deep down you know that ghosts cannot be caught."

I looked at her and got the impression that the sorrow in her face was not limited to Esther and Willie and Henrietta, that some of it was meant for me. She reached her big hand across the table and laid it on mine. Her palm was warm, her fingers strong as they closed around my hand. Her blue eyes radiated kindness. "You're afraid she'll haunt you, aren't you? Esther Grunewald. That if you don't catch the killer, she will never let you be."

I swallowed hard, knowing Greta was right. I had enough ghosts haunting me already. I did not want another one to invade my dreams. The thing was, the more I learned about Esther Grunewald, the fuller her shape and character became in my mind, and the less I wanted to fail her. If I did not bring her killer to justice, maybe one day soon she'd start to appear in my dreams, like the family I'd once had and failed to protect or avenge.

"Am I that easy to read?" I asked.

"You do have an expressive face, Adam. What about the baby? Are you worried he'll haunt you, too?"

I considered her question for a moment, then shook my head. "I don't think so. Willie Ackerland is just as much a victim as Esther was, but I know almost nothing about him besides what he looked like in his photographs. My mental image of him is far hazier than Esther's. She's the one I'm worried about."

Greta squeezed my hand once and let go. My hand felt cold without her enveloping fingers.

"But you're still not done, so don't despair. Maybe something will pop up. Now let's talk of more pleasant things. Mira Roth. Tell me more about her."