“Don’t be. I’ve had a good life, a privileged life. I miss my wife. She passed five years ago. I’ve accepted it all.”

“I can’t thank you enough for coming out here.”

“Happy for the company. I just wish I could help you. I really do because this case has weighed on my conscience from the first day.”

“Could you help me reach your client?”

Tracy shook his head. “She’s long gone into a new life. She never had reason to stay in touch with me. I’m just a reminder of the whole tragic mess.”

“I get that.”

“But I’ll see what I can do. I’ve got your numbers. I just wouldn’t bank on anything.”

Ben nodded and enjoyed the garden with Tracy.

Apropos of nothing, the older man said: “How does that bit of Scripture go, from Ecclesiastes? Forgive me, I’ll botch it, but something like, ‘Vanity vanities. All is vanity. What does man gain by all his toil under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth abides forever.’”

Ben nodded, reflecting on the quote, then sat with Tracy for several minutes before thanking him. As he made his way out of the park, his phone vibrated with a message from Cecil May in California.

It stopped him cold.

Your book fan, Del Brockway, works with Leo Wicks. They’re private investigators.

Ben phoned Cecil. “You think these guys are investigating me?”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Your sources tell you why?”

“I haven’t got that far yet.”

Ben thought a moment. “Could be something related to one of my books. That’s happened a couple times before. People trying to prove I got something wrong, trying to discredit me for legal action. Nothing ever came of it.”

“But you haven’t put out a book for years. Could be something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’ll work on it.”

“Keep me posted.”

Sixty-Three

Cielo Valle, Orange County, California
Present day

In the morning, a woman with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes stared back at Emma from the mirror.

Her head was splitting. She needed coffee.

Watching the kettle boil in the kitchen, Emma fought to control the maelstrom churning around her.

She hated lying, but Kayla was putting things together.

She couldn’t have read my journal, though. If she had, she would’ve asked different questions. And now, Ben’s in Eternity exhuming my past. Sooner or later they’re going to know. And that shadow at the window—and that guy in the park stalking Ben—or me. Was he a reporter? Last night I felt that something, or someone, was watching me out there.

Emma looked out the window into the brilliant sun reflecting on the tranquil pool.

Steam clouds rose from the kettle, its whistle sounding like a scream.