“Where’s the van?” Matt asks, surveying the lane closest to the curb, the lane still closed off to traffic.

“Hit and run.” The officer has seen this before. Caroline can hear it in his voice. Witnesses got the plates, and we’re tracking it down.” He moves off.

Matt sits down on the curb. “Your family,” he says, “is like a pride of cats, nine lives for each of you. How many have you used up so far?”

“Probably all of them.”

Before he can respond, a truck goes past with what’s left of the Mini Cooper. The car looks like shredded scrap metal.

“Look over there,” Matt says.

Caroline’s eyes sweep over the spectators. She sees a group on the other side of Camelback Road. Shoppers have parked in a shopping mall on her side and have wandered over to observe the final cleanup, ask around, find out what they missed. Matt is pointing out a few homeless individuals standing off by themselves.

“Nacho and Daisy aren’t with them,” he says. “Your two street friends are living just like the rest of those tortured souls who subsist on the fringes.”

Caroline takes time to really study the man sitting beside her. He is more complex than she once thought. Matt has allowed her a brief glimpse inside himself.

He smiles. “Anybody who matters to Gretchen matters to me. Now I’m committed to keeping them safe, if I can.”

“Nacho was here earlier,” Caroline says. “He checked to make sure I wasn’t hurt, but then he disappeared. He’s a difficult person for me to get to know.”

“And Daisy isn’t?”

Caroline smiles.

They sit in silence after that.

A man wearing gray overalls joins the indigents, but he doesn’t really fit with them, although they seem to accept him. His clothes are clean, and he’s not wearing layers and layers of them; he’s trimmed up, good haircut, shaven. He doesn’t stay more than a minute or two, probably asking what happened.

The street people always know, if you can get them to talk. They have a remarkable communication system, if she could only figure it out.

She takes another look at her car.

The officer in charge finishes another task and comes over to study the car, too. “She crawled out the busted-out window,” he says to Matt as though she isn’t there. “Had a little trouble getting the seat belt off, sitting upside down, et cetera, but she did it. Ended up helping some of the others.”

“Did she now?” Matt smiles at Caroline again.

“That’s one tough cookie.” He walks away.

“Et cetera,” Matt says.

Caroline should contact Gretchen, make sure she learns of the accident in a gentle manner. The death of her father is bound to make the news of this accident more frightening. Bring back memories best forgotten.

“I’m not going to make a big deal of my part in the accident,” she says to Matt.

“It was a big deal.”

“I mean when I tell Gretchen what happened. I wish I didn’t have to tell her at all, but she’ll notice the missing car.” Caroline adds a hint of playfulness to her voice, practicing lightness for when she talks to her daughter. “Please don’t say anything to her. Once she comes home and sees that I’m not hurt, it’ll be easier for me to relate the facts as they really happened. I don’t want her having bad memories of the accident she had with her father without my being there to comfort her.”

“I’m not going to lie to Gretchen,” he says.

“Then disappear for the rest of the day,” Caroline says, and there is an edge to her voice. “Don’t communicate with her.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m alive, which is more than can be said for that other woman.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks.”

“We’re looking for the van.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it, but the driver has had plenty of time to disappear.”

“You think it was intentional?”

“You want to know if I think someone was trying to kill me? I choose to believe it was an accidental collision. You’ll tell me if you learn otherwise, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll give you a lift in a few minutes.”

Matt goes off to talk with a witness, then walks down the block to study the path of Caroline’s car. Later, while driving her home, he gets a call.

“A stolen white van has been found abandoned on the other side of the city,” he informs her.

“Don’t tell Gretchen, at least not yet. I’ll be careful. Let you know if anything unusual happens.”

“You mean like another hit-and-run?”

“You are a sassy boy.”

“And you’re just like your daughter.”

While she listens, he calls and orders an officer to patrol her street.

“To keep an eye on the house,” he explains to her. “Just in case.”

17

April’s white Lincoln was parked on the street outside of the cemetery entrance. Gretchen pulled up behind her, got out, and walked up to the car.

Bonnie was in the passenger seat. Julie sat alone in the back.

“Nina will be here in a few minutes,” Gretchen said.

“Smart thinking,” April said. “You would have been in big trouble if you left her out. Again.”

Exactly! Gretchen wasn’t going to subject herself to Nina’s wrath unless she absolutely had to.

“Here she comes,” Julie said.

Nina parked in the shade of an orange tree.

“Tutu can wait in the car with Enrico,” Gretchen said to her aunt. “It’s a nice day. She isn’t going to roast.”

“Why can’t she come?”

April snorted. “She might wee-wee on the graves, that’s why.”

They piled into Gretchen’s car, and she drove inside the cemetery gates.

“I love visiting cemeteries,” April said from the backseat. “Especially old cemeteries. It’s one of my hobbies. I can hardly wait.”

“That’s creepy,” Nina said, turning her lithe body to glance into the back.

“And ghost chasing isn’t?” April replied.

“I can’t help it if I attract otherworldly beings,” Nina said. “They gravitate to me because of my ability to communicate with them. It’s not like I have a choice. They pick me. Flora’s situation is a perfect example. She didn’t show herself to anyone until I arrived, did she?”

“That’s true,” Bonnie said.

“Cemeteries are steeped in history,” April said. “You get a flavor of the different eras and cultures when you take the time to read the headstones.”

“My hunt to help a ghost is steeped in history, too,” Nina reminded her.

Gretchen’s hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. She stopped the car next to the same palm tree that she’d leaned against after running away from the dead woman’s frozen stare.

The cemetery didn’t look as forbidding in the light of day. Mountains framed the skyscape, and ancient red earth spread underfoot. To Gretchen, the lack of greenery looked exotic, and the desert hues warmed her. Living in Arizona was like living on another planet, the smells and visuals so different from Boston where she had grown up.

Gretchen looked around-palm trees, several native shade trees, white crosses rising from tall grave markers, the sun glistening from metal grave sculptures and ornaments.

“Ever been to Tombstone?” April asked, hefting her body out of the back of Gretchen’s car. “Boot Hill Cemetery is where many of the old-time western gunslingers are buried. One of my favorite tombstones says, ‘Here lies Lester Moore/Four slugs from a 44/No les, no more.’ ”

The women stood outside the car. Julie hadn’t said a word since getting out of April’s car. Her dyed black hair looked harsh in the daylight. Both her and Bonnie’s faces were pale.

“Are you feeling all right?” Gretchen asked them.

“I’m a little jittery,” Julie said.

“Me, too,” Bonnie agreed.

“If you ever get to Key West,” April went on, “go to the old cemetery in the ‘dead’ of town.” She elbowed Bonnie. “Pun intended. That’s the spookiest cemetery and the most interesting. The graves are aboveground. The coffins are stacked on top of each other because the bedrock is too hard to dig into. One of the graves reads, “I told you I was sick.’ ”