Irene gazes out the window, trying to focus on the views. The vista of the neighboring islands across the turquoise water is nothing short of spectacular. Less than a month ago, Irene made the same drive but she saw nothing, noticed nothing.

Money. “How much?”

“A lot.”

“How much, Huck?”

“A hundred and twenty-five grand.”

A hundred and twenty-five grand. A hot, nauseating panic rises in Irene’s chest. “In cash, you mean?”

“Yes, in cash. Bricks of it.”

“And they took it?”

“They took it,” Huck says. He lights a cigarette and blows the smoke out his window. “And I heard they paid a visit to Welcome to Paradise Real Estate.”

“Dear God,” Irene says. “Paulette?”

“She left the island. Her husband and her son too.”

“She left the island?” Irene says. “I called and left a message asking for a certified copy of the death certificate and she never returned my call, but then, voilà, a copy came in the mail.”

“Well, that’s good,” Huck says. “Right?”

“I thought Russ was still alive somewhere,” Irene says. “I had these dreams where he was so…vivid, so present, so whole. He was there, three-dimensionally, in my mind. And when I’d wake up, I’d think, He made it out of that helicopter and Croft plucked him out of the sea and whisked him away.” Irene is mortified when her voice breaks. “I thought he was just hiding somewhere. I thought I’d see him again.”

Huck takes Irene’s hand. Irene looks down to see their fingers intertwined, her hand slender and wrinkled and white, his large and wrinkled and brown.

“The FBI didn’t find anything in Iowa,” Irene says. “Did they find anything in your house, other than the money? Did they find anything in Rosie’s room?”

“Not that I know of,” Huck says. “I had Ayers go through Rosie’s things while Maia was at school. Ayers was the one who discovered the money.”

“But not anything else?” Irene says. “No clues? No…explanations?”

“No,” Huck says.

“And we can trust Ayers?” Irene asks. “We don’t think she knows more than she’s saying, do we?”

“I trust her,” Huck says. “She’s just as in the dark as you and me.”

“But she was Rosie’s best friend,” Irene says. “Her confidante. Surely…”

“Where the Invisible Man was concerned, Rosie was a brick wall,” Huck says. He signals to turn up Lovers Lane. “Sorry—I mean Russ.”

“It’s okay,” Irene says. “The nickname fits.”

When they get to the house, they see both Jeeps are gone; the boys must still be out. Huck brings Irene’s luggage up the stone steps to the deck.

“Will you stay for a beer?” Irene asks.

“I should go collect Maia,” he says.