Chapters (97)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Eighty-Eight
- Eighty-Nine
- Acknowledgments & A Personal Note
- Excerpt
Barking again, Tug moved closer, alert, his tail wagging, his eyes wide. His mouth was closed as he stood tall.
Emma searched the woods sloping below the ridge.
From somewhere in the darkened forest came a rustling sound. Tug, hackles raised, tail tucked, ears back, barked, then charged into the woods.
“Tug! No! Come back!”
Emma thrust her hand into her backpack, pulled out the pepper spray and a serrated knife she’d packed from the kitchen. With the spray in one hand, the knife in the other, she hurried down into the steep sloping forest after Tug.
Following the jingle of his collar and his panting, she navigated through the trees, branches slapping and pulling on her as she continued going about thirty yards down the slope.
Then she screamed.
Sixty-Nine
Eternity, Manitoba
Present day
Am I making a mistake?
Should I drop everything and fly home?
Ben drove across town beset by how Kayla’s refusal to accept Emma into their lives fueled her suspicions that Emma was hiding something.
Am I missing something? Am I being a fool?
He glanced at his briefcase and contemplated flying home, while at the same time thinking how he’d just gotten started on his research, how he’d set up so many things, how badly he needed to work on this book, for so many reasons.
No, he couldn’t go back to California. Not yet.
Then he thought of Cecil May, looking into the private investigators from the park for him. Ben pulled over, sent Cecil a text.
What’s the status on Brockway and Wicks?
When he didn’t get a response he continued driving.
Eternity’s cemetery was in a windswept part of town. Wheeling through the stone gates of the entrance, Ben looked out to the lush green lawns dotted with tall willows, maples and poplars. He found Section B, spotted a shiny Mercedes-Benz waiting off to the side and parked behind it. A man and woman in their early seventies got out and greeted him.
“Ben Grant,” Ben said.
“Paul Tullock.” The man took Ben’s hand in a firm grip. “My wife, Lynn.”
When she took Ben’s hand, he said, “Thank you for meeting me.”
“We reached Torrie,” Paul said. “I’m sorry but she doesn’t wish to participate in the book.”
“I understand.”
“All of this has been especially painful for her,” Lynn said.
“I can appreciate that.”