“Nothing.”
Lucas had taken a photo of it with the phone Ryan gave him; he wanted to be able to study the image without craning his neck. The doctor who’d done his physical had glimpsed the top edge of it above Lucas’s boxers in spite of his hopes to keep it secret.
“Think you did it yourself ?” Chambers raised one eyebrow. “From the photo the doctor sent me, it looks kind of DIY.”
“People do that?”
“Apparently.”
“No idea.” Lucas shook his head. “Anybody else have one?”
Chambers said, “Don’t know yet.”
They stood there, as if waiting for something to happen, like watching the wind. It was too nice a day for a murder investigation, and Lucas wished he could go surfing or ride a Jet Ski or anything but this.
Chambers probably felt that way, too.
“What did you mean the other day,” Lucas said, “when you said The Leaving ruined your life?”
Chambers gave him a look. Like, really?
“What? I want to know.”
“My sad tale?” Chambers pushed his shoulders back, stretching. “You can probably guess.” He took a pack of gum from his pocket and slid a piece out.
“You were so focused on the case that you neglected your wife.”
“Ding ding ding.” Offered the gum to Lucas, who declined. The detective put a piece into his mouth before he said, “And daughter. Don’t forget the neglected daughter.”
“And now they are . . . ?”
“Wife is remarried. Daughter is in college. ‘Estranged,’ I believe, is the word.”
“And you?”
“I’m here with you, so what does that say?” Chambers shrugged. “And paying for college like it’s some kind of penance.”
“Did you know my father well?”
“As well as I knew any of them, I guess.”
“Was he crazy?”
“Nah.” Chambers shifted his gaze from Lucas to the middle-distance of Opus 6. “This all probably kept him sane.”
The whole place was, on the one hand, extremely disturbing. Because what kind of crazed person would do all that? But there was something . . . calming about it, too.
“Are you going to charge me?”
“Waiting for the autopsy report,” Chambers said. Then he turned and said, “You’ll let me know if you think of anything? The tattoo?”
Lucas nodded and Chambers left. Lucas went inside and watched from the kitchen window until the forensic team also left, then he went back out to explore parts of the grounds he hadn’t walked yet. The map of Opus 6 on the kitchen wall showed a large stone at the highest point, and Lucas imagined that was meant to be the final piece put into place—whether as a gravestone or something else. Now that top swirl of stones seemed to look particularly . . . empty.
He wondered whether the final stone was here somewhere, waiting.
Walking across a plain of stones down by a shaded area at the back of the lot, flattened and arranged just so, Lucas came to a bridge—one large, flat stone—over a passageway. Looking down before crossing, he felt a sort of vertigo—different from the carousel spins. Which maybe made sense, considering how his father had died, but was there something more to it?
Something wrong in his brain?
Something that would never heal?
Everything was too quiet.
He half missed the news vans.
Half wanted reporters to ask him questions that would maybe inspire answers.
He’d show them the tattoo, see if it led to anything. Since it was no longer a secret anyway.
Had it been forced on him? Or on all of them?
Had he done it himself ?
Which was worse?
At the end of his tour—having given up on finding the centerpiece stone—he ducked through a long, deep tunnel, came out the other end, and saw something shining past a cluster of thirsty bushes. Pushing through some brush, he spotted a shabby, old RV with a ray of sun reflecting off the side-view mirror. It didn’t appear at all road-ready.
Did someone live there?
He turned to head back toward the house to ask Ryan about it, whether it was even theirs, and to eat something before the playground meet-up, but his brother was right there.
Lucas nodded toward the RV. “What’s that?”
“Come on.” Ryan wagged a key in the air. “I’ll show you.”
AVERY
She texted Sam when she got out of the pool—
Can you come get me?
Crazy stuff happening
—then got dressed and waited on the front steps.
When he pulled up, she got in and said, “Just drive.”
They ended up at Lakes Park—about twenty minutes inland. She and Sam had rented a bicycle for two on their first date here. Had even ridden the tiny train that ran around the grounds, through little villages made out of dollhouses and miniature oddities. They’d spent hours making out in the far corners of the parking lot, too, a few times since.
Not in a while, though.
They walked out to a picnic table on a bridge over the lake. A large white bird took off from a small island as Avery sat down.