It was a stretch, but it was a connection.

Susan clicked print.

She’d told the national editor that she’d cover the press conference. That gave her two hours. She Googled “‘Vanport Flood.’” It was worth a shot. Sometimes the best research happened when you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

Chapter 36

CHAPTER

36

Archie’s watch was a Timex. It had a titanium band with a black face, numbers that glowed in the dark, and Swiss movement—whatever that was. He had paid $14.99 for it. Archie was looking at it while he was walking down the ICU hall, which was why he didn’t see his ex-wife until he was standing right in front of her.

She was growing out her hair. She had always worn it very short, and now it fell in curls below her earlobes. Archie was still getting used to it. Her freckles glowed brown in the hospital light. She had only looked happier and younger since they’d finally broken up.

“It’s you,” he said dumbly.

“You should have called me,” she said. “I had to see it on the news.”

She was right. Debbie had known Henry as long as he had. Henry had been there for her every day when Archie was missing, and then for the long month in the hospital after. He’d been to their kids’ birthday parties. She’d deserved to hear it from him. “I’m sorry,” Archie said. How many times had he said that to her? “I was trying to protect you.”

“Well, stop,” Debbie said with a gentle smile.

Archie craned to look around her, into the room where Henry lay like a sarcophagus in a tomb. Claire was still in the chair she’d claimed, reading a book. “How is he?”

Debbie looked away. “The same.”

“Where are the kids?” Why did it seem like a personal question?

“With Doug, at home,” Debbie said. “I can help Claire. I’ve done this before, you know.”

Before. When Archie had been in a medically induced coma. When she had sat in a chair by his hospital bed. Before Archie had confessed everything.

“Her sister’s here,” Archie said.

“Her sister is an idiot,” Debbie said.

“Claire’s handling it pretty well.”

“You’re an idiot, too.”

“Only emotionally,” Archie said.

“Yes,” Debbie said. “There’s that.”

She waited, and they were quiet. He could tell she was working out how to say something.

“One of the doctors came and talked to Claire,” she said finally. “They told her that Henry might have suffered cerebral hypoxia.” She paused. “It’s caused by lack of oxygen to the brain.”

Archie had to look away for a moment, to keep it together. “What are we talking about?”