“I know. I should make you pay for both of us.” He lifted one eyebrow, something that Lara marveled he could do. “It occurs to me that among my recent loot, there was no birthday present from you. I’m a little hurt. I could have used a lighter.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“For barbecuing and lighting candles,” he said as he scanned the bill.

“I’ve never seen you barbecue anything and I’m pretty sure you don’t own a single decorative candle, Mr. Archer.”

“Quit being so smug that you know me so well. An oven mitt, then.”

“You don’t cook. You come here every night.”

“A blood pressure cuff, then.”

“Eh.” Lara considered the cuff before waving goodbye to Del. It was a two-block walk to her house.

A light rain began to fall as they walked toward their respective homes. They stopped at the street where he went left and she went right and continued to make small talk about the state of the sidewalk repair. Lara remembered she didn’t have to be at the station early the next day, so that was good.

“I must be doing a really poor job of this.” Ben’s face was getting flushed.

“Of what?”

“Hitting on you.” He put his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.” Lara laughed, pressing her hand to her face.

“And I’m getting wet, so if you’re going to reject me, do it quickly so I can get inside. This carnival gala thing on Saturday. Do you need a chaperone?”

“I could use a chaperone, Mr. Archer. As the chief of police, you’d probably be an acceptable one.” Lara wasn’t sure if it was too soon to start something new. She didn’t know if there was a time line for women like her, but she knew that with Ben Archer she didn’t feel like a tragedy. She weighed them both in her mind: Todd and Ben; Ben and Todd. But it wasn’t as though she had a choice. One was gone and one was standing in front of her. Maybe it was time she started living again.

“What color is your dress?”

“Why?” She laughed. “Are we matching?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “You’ll just be wearing a mask. I want to know who I’m looking for.”

“Blue,” she said. “My dress is blue. And I’ll find you.”

Chapter 9

Kerrigan Falls, Virginia

July 24, 1982

As a kid, Lara had loved to run across the field that connected the old Lund Farm, now owned by her grandfather Simon Webster, to the one that belonged to her great-grandmother Cecile. Like bookends, two generations of her family were connected by one sloping field. It took four minutes of a full-on run to make it from porch to porch, a timetable she often tested to make it to dinner on time at one house or the other.