Page 109 of Hidden Tide

“Dad asked you?” I say.

“Yes. He said he had been working too much and wanted an afternoon with his family.”

Thomas leans forward in his chair. “This was three days before he died?”

Mom nods.

Thomas looks at the picture again. “He knew someone was watching him.”

“Then why bring us there?” Storm asks.

“Because a man being followed can hide a meeting inside a family outing.”

My stomach tightens.

The cliffs.

The wind.

Dad’s hand holding mine as we walked along the trail.

Memories move at the edges of my mind, close enough to feel but too far away to see clearly.

“Dad met someone that day,” I whisper.

Mom looks at me. “What?”

“I don’t know.”

Ben turns toward me. “You remember something?”

“No. Maybe.”

I close my eyes.

For an instant, I hear seagulls.

I smell the ocean and the cinnamon gum Dad always carried in his pocket. After he quit smoking.

Then the memory disappears.

Marquez takes the photograph from Mom and returns it to the table.

“Don’t force it.”

“Someone is trying to kill me because of something that happened thirteen years ago. I think forcing it might be necessary.”

“Memory doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work?”

“It returns when it returns. Sometimes in fragments. Sometimes not at all.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Calle,” Mom says softly, “you were terrified after your father died. You had nightmares for months.”

“I had nightmares because Dad was dead.”