Ulrich’s sinewy body seemed to twist itself tighter, like a length of braided jerky. “My reasons are my reasons, and I’ve every damn right to ’em. You don’t own me or have any more answers comin’ for a lousy twenty-two-hundred bucks. Be best for you if you went away now and didn’t ever think of comin’ back.”

By the time David got in his car and started the engine, Ulrich was hiking up the driveway toward the house, and the crows erupted from the roof as if in fright at his approach.

David wondered how long Ulrich would take to inspect the house for vandalism. How long, following that inspection, might he remain in the cellar—and what might he do down there?

| 19 |

David drove north on State Route 154 and then west on US Highway 101, which turned south at Gaviota. After several miles, he pulled off the southbound lanes to park where the shoulder widened into a coastal viewpoint capable of accommodating four or five vehicles. At the moment, he had the panoramic vista to himself.

He got out of the car and went to the railing and stood looking at the soft folds of grassland that sloped down a few hundred yards to a white beach. The pacified sea slumbered, hardly rolling in its sleep, stammering quietly on the shore as though whispering of its dreams.

In this lay-by, the highway patrol had found Emily’s Buick the day after she disappeared. The key was in the ignition, but the engine would not turn over.

Her purse lay in the footwell that served the front passenger seat. The cash and credit cards hadn’t been taken.

In the distance, south of this viewpoint, between the highway and the ocean, lay what seemed to be a horse ranch: a gabled and dormered white house, stables, fenced pastures. An equal distance to the north, a stubby peninsula thrust into the sea, and an impressive stone house stood on that headland, so solid in appearance that it might have been built to withstand the fate of humanity and harbor the last family at the end of time.

Expecting nothing to come of their inquiries, state and federal law enforcement had nevertheless spoken with those who lived in both residences, and their expectations had been fulfilled. Those people had seen nothing. The distance was too great. Furthermore, Emily had been taken from her broken-down Buick at night, in the rain, when visibility was dismal.

David turned from the sea and looked across the divided highway at the foothills of the Santa Ynez Mountains. One residence could be glimpsed far back from the roadway, at a greater distance than the houses on the ocean side.

Traffic sped south, raced north, their wakes of wind shuddering leaves and bits of litter across the viewpoint pavement, whirling up dust devils.