There is no reason someone would burn his father’s home down with him inside. And Hunter asks, “And no one knows who this woman was?”

“The cops are trying to figure it out. They’ve spoke with witnesses in town that saw your dad with her. It’s like she was a ghost, or some shit.”

Both men finish their drinks, and David asks. “Want another?”

“Please.”

David refills their glasses. Slides the glass of bourbon back to Hunter. “I got something your father left for you.”

Walking back into the house, he is gone for a minute. He comes back out and lays a square wooden box on the table.

“Your dad gave this to me months ago. Said that if anything ever happened to him, to give this to you.”

“What’s in it?”

“No idea. Never opened it. It’s yours.”

Taking the box in his hands, holding it, he wonders again what his father’s last moments were like. Reading a book. Hunter runs his fingers over hardwood that had been sanded smooth and stained. The hinges are tarnished brass. It looks to have been handcrafted, not store-bought. It is about the size of a shoe box for work boots. A latch on the front keeps it closed. Hunter thumbs it and opens the box.

His uncle says, “You know, there was a string of strange house fires in Sicily back in 2003. They blamed a kid but said there was no way in hell he’d started all the fires. Something like ninety-two fires logged. Breaker boxes going up in flames for no reason. It was unheard of.”

“No shit?” Hunter says. Inside the box, piles of photos are stacked, separated with paper clips. Some are Polaroids, some black and white, most of them with a string of sentences on the back. Information. Dates. Years. Places. Women with kids. Young to older. With his father. Names and birth dates.

And David asks, “Not trying to be nosey, but what’d he leave you?”

“Not sure. Stacks of photos with other women and children. Birth certificates.”

Thumbing through all of them. Laying them on the table. His uncle starts looking at them. And Hunter says, “Other lives. These are other lives my father had. This a past I never knew about.” Pausing, he looks at David, who seems really taken aback. And Hunter asks, “You know anything about any of this? Anyone look familiar?”

“No. You know, your father was always very private about women. I don’t get this. This is kinda crazy—creepy, even. I mean, he was my brother, and it’s like—”

“He had another life. A separate identity from what we knew.”

“Reminds me,” David says. “I got a photo I wanted you to have. Come across it a while back, was gonna send it to you. It’s of you and your mother. At the hospital when you were born.”