Decals from countless tourist stops had been applied in a tidy line along the brown painted stripe. This was a history of Ned’s travels spelled out one town at a time in a series of slogans. FALLOWAY, TX: HAPPIEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WEST. PARADISE, AZ: GHOST TOWN OF COCHISE COUNTY. PRAIRIE, NV: HOST OF THE 1985 WILD WEST RODEO.

The door was opened and Celeste stared out at me, fair-haired and pale.

“Celeste?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Kinsey. I’m a friend of April’s. She asked me to stop by and make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“May I come in?”

She didn’t look me in the eye and she didn’t reply, but she didn’t close the door in my face, which I took as a good sign. She considered my request and then stepped back. I entered the house and followed her into the living room, noting that she sat in a chair that allowed her to keep an eye on the street through the picture window in the front. She was tense and thin in the manner of someone with an eating disorder. Her dark eyes were at odds with her fair coloring and seemed enormous in the delicate oval of her face.

“Are you expecting Ned? April told me he’s tied up in meetings until noon.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. He says things like that all the time and then pops in unexpectedly, hoping to catch me unawares. He likes to keep me on my toes.”

On the wall behind her, there were two enlarged black-and-white photographs that I assumed were Ned’s. Over the fireplace, there were two more in stark black frames. He was apparently fascinated with rock formations: limestone worn down by chemical weathering; sedimentary layers undulating along a ridge; granite outcroppings; a massive sandstone bed that had eroded into a single towering crag. Striking, but cold.

“Are those his?”

She nodded. “He hopes to retire from his sales job and make a living from his photography. That’s part of what he does on his annual treks: he goes to galleries to show his portfolio.”

Her tone of voice had the flat quality of someone reading from a script. She seemed to wear her passivity like a Kevlar vest. Getting through to her would be impossible unless I could find a way to gain her trust. “Do his prints sell?”

Her smile was brief. “Lately, they have.”

“April says he’s leaving tomorrow.”

“Unless he cancels or delays or changes his mind.”

“Where’s he going this time?”

“He says I don’t need to know. If I press him for information, he says I’m trying to control his every move.”

“When, in fact, that’s what he’s doing to you,” I said.

She gave one of those little half shrugs.

“Are you okay? You seem to be operating in a fog.”

“Ned says I’m depressed.”

“Do you have an opinion of your own?”

“That’s what the drinking was about. I’ve been depressed all my life and that’s how I made myself feel better.”