His thoughts turned to Billy and to Hendricks and Jenn. Were any of them alive? George Abe. Kirby Tate. Terrance Musgrove. So many lives bound together in the Gordian knot of one missing girl. But for Gibson, it came down to his father. He was under no illusion that he was safe, but it was a question he needed to answer before deciding his next move. As horrible as the truth might be, Gibson knew that the doubt would drive him insane. What had driven his father to suicide? Gibson could feel the opaque fingers of his suspicion tightening their grip.

He just prayed that his aunt had kept it.

Miranda Davis came in through the front door. Gibson stood to greet her, unsure how. His aunt solved that riddle and drew her nephew into her strong arms. He sank into her embrace, and both their eyes were wet when they parted.

The years had treated Miranda fairly. She had aged, of course, but lost none of her vitality. Her tall, thin frame, strong from years of competitive running, including six marathons, looked nearly the same. Only her hair appeared noticeably different.

“I like your hair,” he said.

“Oh, I got sick of the gray. Bill thinks I look pretty as a redhead.”

Bill was her husband of thirty-some years. Gibson had only ever heard him speak on two subjects: UVA sports and his lovely, lovely wife. Otherwise, he left the talking to Miranda.

“He’s right. You look great.”

Miranda waved the compliment away. “Well, I don’t know about all that, but thank you. And, my goodness, Gibson. Look at you. A man. Lord, it’s been so long.” She became quiet. “Which is my fault, I know.”

“No,” he said with a vehemence that surprised him. “I was a shit.”

“You were a child,” she corrected. “I was the grown-up. I should have acted like one.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She covered his hand with hers. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Me too.”

“Lord but we can be a stubborn lot. Are you in town long? Bill would love to see you.”

He said that he was leaving tonight. Miranda looked disappointed, and he promised that when he had time he’d like to come for a visit.

“I have a daughter.” He told Miranda about Ellie, and about Nicole. Miranda asked questions, and he filled her in on his life as best he could, trying to keep the narrative upbeat. He was surprised at how much good stuff there was to tell, and at how good it felt to have someone who wanted to hear it.

“I hope to meet her someday,” she said.

He promised that he would bring her to Charlottesville soon. That brought a fresh round of tears and self-recriminations. She smiled through her tears.