He had raised Colton and Mara after their mother disappeared.
He had never been particularly gentle with either child, but he had been especially hard on Colton, criticizing him for weakness whenever he showed kindness and calling him a disappointment whenever he failed to meet some invisible standard.
Colton had hated him for years.
Then Samuel died, and hatred became something Colton could no longer do anything with.
He had buried the man and tried to move forward.
Now a child he had never met was telling him that her mother believed her grandfather had found them.
“Lila,” he said carefully, “did your mother tell you your grandfather was alive?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘My father found us.’”
Colton closed his eyes.
Mara had been referring to their father.
There was no other explanation.
Darren broke the silence.
“We need proof before we assume anything.”
Colton turned toward him.
“There is someone who might have it.”
“Who?”
“Elias Boone. He was my father's business partner.”
Two hours later, they were driving toward Cottonwood.
The road wound through the Arizona landscape, passing dry riverbeds, low hills, and scattered homes surrounded by fences bleached white by the sun.
Lila had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her rabbit tucked beneath her chin.
Colton glanced at her every few minutes.
He could not explain why he felt so protective of her.
Perhaps it was because she was frightened and alone.
Perhaps it was because she reminded him of Mara when they were children.
Or perhaps it was because, for the first time in nine years, he had a living connection to the sister he had spent so long trying to find.
He did not yet understand how much that connection would change his life.
Elias Boone lived in a small trailer near the Verde River. Colton remembered visiting him as a teenager, when Boone and Samuel had still shared a repair shop on the edge of town.
The trailer looked smaller than Colton remembered.
A rusted pickup stood outside, its hood propped open. Wind chimes hung from the porch roof, making a soft metallic sound as the breeze moved through them.
Boone opened the door before Colton knocked.
He was seventy years old now, with a white beard, sunken cheeks, and hands that trembled slightly.
His eyes moved from Colton to Darren, then to Lila.
When he saw the child, his expression collapsed.
“Oh, no,” he whispered.
Colton stepped forward.
“You know her?”
Boone backed into the trailer.
“You need to leave.”
“Not today.”
“I mean it, Colton.”
“Is my father alive?”
The old man froze.
The question seemed to drain the remaining color from his face.
Colton stepped inside.
“Was there a body in the casket?”
Boone lowered himself into a chair.
For a long time, he stared at his hands.
Then he said, “Samuel came to me a week before the accident.”
“What accident?”
“The one everyone thought killed him.”
Colton felt his stomach tighten.
Boone swallowed.
“He said he needed to disappear. He owed people favors. Dangerous favors. He told me that if anyone asked, I should say he had died.”
“Who were these people?”
Boone looked toward the window.
“Red Mesa.”
Colton's jaw tightened.
“What was my father doing for them?”
“Moving things through the shop. Packages. Cash. Documents. I never asked what was inside.”
“Who was giving him the orders?”
Boone hesitated.
“Victor Saye.”
Darren cursed quietly.
Colton stared at the old man.
“My father worked for Victor?”
“Not exactly. Samuel was useful because nobody thought he mattered. He knew mechanics, truck routes, rural properties. He could move things without drawing attention.”
“Things like what?”
Boone shook his head.
“Names, mostly. Records. Sometimes money. Sometimes people.”
Colton felt cold.
“People?”
Boone looked at him with exhausted eyes.
“Witnesses. People who knew too much. People who needed to be persuaded to forget what they'd seen.”
The words hung in the small trailer.
Colton thought of Mara.
He thought of the safe-house fire.
He thought of the years he had spent searching while the truth lay hidden somewhere beneath the surface of his own family.
“Did Mara know?” he asked.
Boone nodded slowly.
“She found out shortly before she disappeared.”
“How?”
“Your father contacted her.”
“Why?”
“I don't know. He wanted something from her. She came to me afterward, frightened in a way I'd never seen before.”
Boone stood with difficulty and crossed to a locked cabinet.
He opened it with a small key and removed a metal box.
Inside lay several old receipts, a faded photograph, and an envelope bearing Colton's name.
He recognized the handwriting immediately.
Mara.
His throat tightened.
“What is that?”
“She gave it to me nine years ago.”
Colton stared at him.
“You had a letter from my sister for nine years?”
“She made me promise not to give it to you unless Samuel came back.”
“You let me believe she was dead.”