“Yes.” Antrim smiled. “She’s finally back on her feet. Although this grass isn’t the easiest place for her to walk.”
“I needed to come,” said Amy. “She took such good care of me in the hospital, and I never really thanked her.”
“She spent two long weeks in the hospital,” Antrim said, smiling at his daughter. “It was touch-and-go for a few days, but Amy’s a fighter. She might not look it now, but she is.” He turned to Jane. “They never caught the driver who hit her, and it’s been weeks since we’ve had an update from the police. Maybe you could—”
“Dad,” said Amy.
“Well, she can check, can’t she?”
“I’ll call the investigating officer and see if there’s been any progress,” said Jane. “But after this much time, I wouldn’t be too hopeful.”
Thunder grumbled closer.
“It’s raining,” said Amy. “And Mom’s waiting for us.”
“Right. She’s probably wondering where we all are.” He opened an umbrella and held it over his daughter’s head. “I hope you’ll both come too,” he said to Jane and Frost.
“Where?” asked Jane.
“Our house. We’re hosting a luncheon for everyone who knew Sofia. My wife’s arranged for catering, which means there’ll be enough food for an army. So please come.”
Something suddenly caught Jane’s eye. It was a lone figure in the distance. A man standing among the gravestones, watching them.
“Dr. Antrim,” she said. “Do you know that man?”
He turned to look in the direction she was pointing. “No. Should I?”
“He seems very interested in us.”
Now Amy turned to look as well. “Oh, that man. We were chatting earlier, outside the gate. I thought I might know him from the university, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He asked if I was here for a funeral.”
“Did he ask specifically about Sofia’s service?”
“I don’t think—I mean, I don’t remember.”
“Excuse us,” said Jane. “We’re going to have a little chat with him.”
She and Frost started toward the man, walking at a measured pace so they wouldn’t alarm him. He turned and began walking away.
“Sir?” Jane called out. “Sir, we’d like to talk to you.”
The man’s pace quickened to a jog.
“Oh shit. I think we’ve got a runner,” said Frost.
They took off after him, sprinting past gravestones and marble angels. Raindrops splattered Jane’s face and trickled into her eyes, smearing the landscape into a blur of green. She blinked and her quarry came back into view. He was running full tilt now, and he rounded an ivy-smothered mausoleum and darted down a path cutting through woods.
Blood pumping, breaths coming fast, Jane followed him into the woods and her shoe suddenly skidded on wet leaves. Like an out-of-control ice-skater, she slid across the flagstones and went down, landing so hard on her rear end that the impact slammed up her spine.
Frost dashed past her, kept running.
Tailbone throbbing, the seat of her pants now muddy, Jane scrambled back to her feet and followed her partner. When she caught up with him, he had stopped and was frantically scanning the woods. The path ahead of them was deserted, the trail flanked by dense shrubbery. Their quarry had vanished.
Thunder rumbled closer and here they were, once again standing in the worst place to be when lightning strikes: under a tree.
“How the hell did we lose him?” said Jane.
“He had too much of a head start. He must’ve gone off the trail somewhere.” He looked at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She brushed dirt from her pants. “Crap, and I just bought these.”
A twig snapped, loud as a rifle shot.
Jane spun toward the sound and saw a thick wall of rhododendrons. She glanced at Frost, and without a word they simultaneously drew their weapons. She didn’t know who this man was or why he had fled from them, but running was something you did when you were afraid. Or guilty.
She was betting on guilty.
She spied an opening in the wall of shrubbery and eased her way through, only to be trapped in a smothering thicket of green. Thunder boomed and rain splattered the leaves, rattling them like gunfire. She kept moving forward, pushing through the damp jungle and blinking away raindrops. A cloud of mosquitoes rose from the soil and swarmed her face. Waving them away, she blindly pushed forward.