“That’s why I wanted to get down here to talk to you,” he continued. “His car is going to be towed through town on a flatbed. People will notice it. They’ll talk.” He stammered. “I just wanted to prepare you. Now I’ve got to tell Fred and Betty.”

“They don’t know yet?” Lara’s hand went to her mouth from shock. She imagined Betty Sutton hearing this news.

Ben shook his head. “I came here first.”

“Where did you find it?” Audrey’s voice was thin and tense, expectant even. “The car?”

Lara studied her mother’s features, looking for something.

Ben hesitated before answering. “Wickelow Bend.”

Audrey’s eyes widened, but not with surprise. Lara made a mental note of that. There was something unsaid between her mother and Ben Archer. At the mention of Wickelow Bend, the air seemed to go out of her mother. “I see.”

“Wait! The haunted stretch of road that kids are told not to drive on?” Lara looked at Ben. “That Wickelow Bend? Why on earth would Todd have been there?” Lara eyed her mother suspiciously. Audrey had turned completely pale and seemed to be trembling. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It was thirty years ago today.” Audrey directed the comment to Ben. “You remember that, don’t you?”

“I was there, Audrey,” said Ben. He put his hands in his pockets and seemed fascinated with his shoes. “It was my dad’s birthday. He always let me ride along with him in the police cruiser.”

“Oh, I keep forgetting about your father.” Audrey looked weary. “But you were just a boy.”

“What are you both talking about?” Lara was watching their faces. “You didn’t find Todd. That’s good, right?”

Ben hesitated as though he were parsing out unfortunate news to a child. “Back in 1974—October tenth to be specific—we found an abandoned car along the road. It belonged to a man by the name of Peter Beaumont. To be perfectly honest with you, Todd’s car was found in the exact same spot today.”

“We’ve all heard the story,” said Lara. “You’re telling me that it’s really true?”

“Yes.” Audrey’s voice was soft. “Peter Beaumont was your father’s best friend.”

“But Todd had no connection to Wickelow Bend or that missing man.”

“Peter Beaumont wasn’t just some missing man,” said her mother, a surprising tone of annoyance in her voice as she clutched at the collar of her robe, pulling it around her neck. “He and your father grew up together here. They started their first band together in Jason’s garage.”