O’Connor took Mayhope back home. He thanked Ezra and offered to reward him for his time. The thanks were bashfully accepted, the offer flatly refused. O’Connor bought two dozen eggs.

Before he left, O’Connor asked Ezra if he could think of a place nearby that matched the description given by Jack-a eucalyptus windbreak, farm on one side, dairy across the road. He added that he assumed the field he was looking for was fallow or just recently plowed. Ezra grinned and told him that described about a hundred places.

He drove around for a while, discovered that what Ezra said was true. Eucalyptus trees were a common windbreak, as ubiquitous as another import-palm trees-were in cities. Farms and dairy farms were often located across the road from one another. He wasn’t getting anywhere in his search.

He drove back to the place where Jack had been found. Only an hour or so of daylight remained, and he hoped that in that hour he might discover if those who injured Jack had left other clues.

Even before he stepped outside the car, he was struck by the rank odor of the marsh. It wasn’t always this strong, he knew, and there were many places along the marshland where it wouldn’t have been bad at all. He hated to think of Jack lying in this fetid water. Small wonder Jack was feverish.

He thought of the time frame. Jack had been taken from the party before midnight, taken out to the farm, and then moved from there to this marsh. Found near here an hour or so before dawn on Sunday, about thirty-six hours ago. Rain had fallen on Sunday, but not until a few hours after Jack had been found. Even before the rain, the ground here would be soft and damp.

A group of noisy gulls scolded O’Connor, then went back to their interest in something a little farther away.

O’Connor saw footprints in the muddy earth as he approached the edge of the water. He carefully avoided them. He had a feeling that no one from the police had bothered to come out here, or if they had, no one from the crime lab had been with them. He couldn’t say that he blamed them. The rain had undoubtedly disturbed almost any kind of evidence that might have been here.

He saw one set of rain-filled footprints that he thought must be Ezra’s, because they were close to the marks left where Jack had obviously lain on the grasses, and because as they headed back to the road they seemed deeper, since Ezra had dragged Jack’s weight along with him. When he thought of the muddy mess Jack must have been, it was small wonder Ezra might have mistaken him for a movie monster.

That’s where Jack had come out of the water. Where did he go in? From everything O’Connor had been told, and what he had seen of Jack’s condition, he didn’t think Jack would have been able to move far.

He saw more crushed reeds near where the seagulls were so busy. It was muddier there, and slippery, so he had to walk slowly and carefully as he moved along the edge of the marsh, glancing between the water and the road.

He came across tire prints. They were mostly washed away, but he could see the furrow of the deep tracks stopping just a couple of yards short of the water. A few more feet, and the car might have been stuck in the mire.

He saw footprints, one set very large and deep. The other, smaller set was on the other side of the tire tracks and seemed to show that someone merely stood there.

O’Connor tried to picture it. The car didn’t turn around. From what he could tell from the tire tracks, the car had probably backed toward the water from the road, so that if the two men needed to leave in a hurry, they could do so. Risky with the mud, though-he could see where the mud had built as the rear tires spun to move the car forward again.

The big man-the giant who had beaten Jack?-walked to the back of the car and stood near the center of the tire tracks, but slightly back, closer to the water. To open the trunk? The footprints of this man were huge and deep as they moved away from the tire tracks toward the water.

He followed the path of the footprints. It was only when he reached the water that he saw the shoes among the grasses. He knew, even before he thought of the scavenger nature of seagulls. He shouted and waved his arms, and for a moment they flew away, long enough for him to see the body, bloated and unmoving, fully clothed, face unrecognizable. He knew who it was.

Jack had outlived the blond giant.

H ASTINGS ENTERED THE LIBRARY WITH QUIET STEPS, BUT LILLIAN HAD heard the phone ring and expected him. She left her contemplation of the fire and looked up. She received a mild shock and wondered if her own face bore as many marks of grief as the butler’s. Poor Hastings. Doing his best to hide it.

“Mr. Yeager on the telephone, madam,” Hastings said.

Lillian sighed.

“No one would blame you for not taking calls at a time like this,” Hastings said.

Lillian nearly took this offer to be shielded, then thought, as she knew a corporate wife must always think, of the implications for her husband’s company. Since the war years, under Harold’s less-than-stellar leadership, Vanderveer-Linworth had moved from the position of nearly owning Yeager Enterprises to nearly being owned by it. If Lillian hadn’t taken a hand in matters, it might well have come to pass. She shook her head and said, “Harold does far too much business with Mr. Yeager for me to snub him in any way. And knowing Mitch, he’ll come to the house if I don’t speak to him on the phone. I’ll take it in here, thank you.”

“May I bring you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” she said, not really wanting it, but knowing he would feel better if occupied.

She picked up the phone, heard Hastings drop the extension into its cradle, and said, “This is Lillian.”

“Lillian, I’m so damned sorry. I can’t believe it.”

“Thank you, Mitch. I’m not sure I’ve really taken it in myself. And I admit, I still hope they will find her. Kathleen would have put on a life vest.”

“Of course she would have! She was-she is-a smart girl. Takes after her mother.”

Lillian couldn’t speak.

“I feel especially bad because thanks to you, I’m a parent now.”

“Thanks to me?” she said, bewildered.

“Didn’t Harold tell you? We adopted a few weeks ago! Two months ago today, in fact.”

She could hear the joy in his voice, the exuberance. She wasn’t sure she could bear anyone’s joy right now. “No…no, he didn’t mention it.”

“A little boy. You know my wife has wanted a child, but-well, I won’t go into all the details, but Estelle is barren.”

Lillian was shocked that he would disclose such a thing to her, and felt embarrassed on Estelle’s behalf. She had been friends with Estelle in high school and had always liked her. She was pretty and sweet and generous, one of those girls who could be lively without being a cat-a trick Lillian would admit that she herself had not mastered. But since Estelle’s marriage to Mitch, Lillian had more often pitied than admired Estelle.

“You’re always in the papers,” Mitch said, reclaiming her attention, “because of the work you do for those girls and adoption. And I decided, well, we should go ahead and adopt. Give one of those poor kids a chance, a better life. And I have to tell you, Lillian, Mitch Junior has made a big softie out of me already. I can’t help it.”

“That’s… that’s wonderful, Mitch. I’m happy for Estelle.”

“Sorry, now’s not the time to be talking to you about babies, either, is it? I’m a bas- Uh, I’m a fool. Forgive me. I would have talked to Harold but the butler said he isn’t around.”

“No, he hasn’t returned yet. He’s away on business.”

“But he knows, of course.”

“Yes. We reached him early this afternoon.”

“Is there going to be some kind of memorial or something?”