But after her death, he viewed things differently. God? Why turn to God now? Where was God when his mother-in-law fell asleep in her beach chair? Where was God when his daughter got swept into the sea? Why didn’t God just make her little feet run the other way, back to safety, back to the house, back to her mother and her father? What kind of God lets a child die that way?

There was no comfort in invisible forces, not for LeFleur. There was only what got put in front of you and how you dealt with it. Which is why this notebook had so engrossed him—and at times frustrated him. A group of shipwrecked people think they have God in the boat? Why not pin Him down? Hold Him accountable for all the horrors He allowed in this world? LeFleur would have.

He clicked open the glove compartment and took a long swig from the whisky flask. Then he reached over the seat for his briefcase, found the notebook, flipped on the courtesy lights, and returned to the story. He didn’t notice, in the guesthouse’s second-story window, the small round lenses of the binoculars that Dobby watched him through.

* * *

It was after midnight when LeFleur finished the final page.

I am the Lord. And I will never leave you.

He dropped the notebook in his lap. The little girl was the Lord? He searched for more pages that weren’t there. The little girl was the Lord. Storywise, it explained certain things. Why she was always giving her rations to the stranger. Why she didn’t speak. She was watching them the whole time. She was watching over Benji. But who was the man who claimed to be God? And why was he allowed to die? Why didn’t the little girl save him—or the rest of them?

He glanced at his watch. After midnight. The date on his display had just changed. April 10.

He froze.

Lilly’s birthday.

She would have been eight years old today.

He pressed his fingers to his forehead and covered his eyes with his palms. His mind flooded with memories of his daughter. Putting her to bed. Making her breakfast. Holding her hand as they crossed a street in town. For some reason, he found himself thinking about the last scene in Benji’s story, the little girl in his arms, and what that little girl might have looked like. He pictured her as Lilly.