Grace stiffened. He’d worded it clumsily so that it sounded vaguely accusatory. Careful now, he thought; there was only ever going to be one shot at this.

“Yes, well. Here you are now,” she said. “I suppose you should explain the photograph. Where did you get it?”

“It’s probably best if I start from the beginning.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

Gibson cleared his throat and told her the story. Told her about Abe Consulting and how they had tracked Billy Casper to Somerset, Pennsylvania. Prior to this meeting, he had considered redacting a great many things, but in the end he told her nearly everything.

Grace listened in silence while Denise hovered by the door.

When he finished describing the lake house, he took the Phillies baseball cap from his bag. He held it out to her by the brim. She held it at a distance, suspiciously.

“And what? You’re telling me that this is the hat?”

“You tell me.” He showed her the initials, and Grace studied them.

“This is her handwriting.” She looked up questioningly. “And this man, Billy Casper, he gave it to you?”

“He did.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested? He kidnapped my daughter.”

“Mrs. Lombard, Billy Casper was sixteen when Suzanne ran away.”

“He was only a boy?” Grace stood and went back to the window. “How is that possible?”

He watched her carefully to see which way she was leaning: belief or denial.

“I think they were in love. Well, Billy was in love with her. I don’t know about Bear.”

At the mention of his old nickname for Suzanne, Grace began to weep. She didn’t put a hand up to cover her eyes. She simply wept.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said at last, her almond eyes holding his gaze without modesty.

“Mrs. Lombard, when did things turn bad for Bear?”

That stopped Grace cold. “When did things start to get hard for Suzanne? Her behavior? I’ve asked myself that question for years; I’ve never been able to pinpoint it. There was no one moment. It happened over the course of several years. Little things. I thought it was just adolescence.”

“Billy also gave me this.” Gibson handed her the copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Grace held it tightly, her head nodding at its familiarity.

“She carried this with her everywhere,” she said, flipping through the pages. “After you finished reading it to her. She’d sit in the kitchen, peppering me with questions and writing in this book.”

“Me too. It drove me crazy.”

Grace laughed gratefully through her tears. “I looked everywhere for it. It makes sense she took it. She loved you so much.”

“Do you remember Bear’s nickname for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “She called you ‘Son.’ ”