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her own agenda.
    “Did she ever reply to your emails?”
    She pretended to read the map. “We’re looking for Emerald Bay, an area just north of town. I imagine this is pricey real estate. You didn’t tell me Sam was wealthy.”
    “He’s not, but his family is, specifically his mother’s family. She brought it with her to the marriage. His dad, Steve, is a city councilman with low public servant wages, but his mother, Georgie, owns a string of boutiques called The Bare Essentials that she operates in a lot of airports. They carry all kinds of things you might want for a trip, like travel toothbrushes and airline pillows.” She swatted the map out of Ari’s hand. “Now, answer my question. Did Molly ever reply to your emails? You must have sent twenty.”
    She knew if she didn’t give her an answer she’d just keep asking the question. The truth was the only antidote for silence. “Yes. I wrote her several times and poured out my heart and I got a sentence back.”
    “What did it say?”
    “Hmm. Let me see if I can remember the wording exactly. She said, ‘I hate you and I never want to see you again. Delete my email address.’” She held up a hand. “My mistake. That was two sentences.”
    “Not even a
please
? Wow, she is pissed.”
    She picked up the map again to hide the tears. She re-read the email every day, and the words still took her breath away like a sucker punch. Of course, Molly believed
she
was the sucker.
    “I’m sorry, honey,” Jane said softly. “Let’s forget about her for now.”
    Jane flicked on her iPod and the Carpenters began reminding them that rainy days and Mondays were the worst. She flowed into the singalong, the sight of the ocean an instant comfort.
    They easily found the Garritson estate next to the highway, which headed inland near Laguna Beach, allowing developers to make millions on beachfront property along the coastline. The winding driveway burst with the oranges, purples, reds and yellows of jungle foliage flourishing in the mild California weather. As they turned in front of a majestic fountain, she realized the best view was on the other side of the house—the Pacific Ocean.
    She was surprised when Sam Garritson greeted them. He shook her hand cordially but gave Jane a welcoming hug as if he’d known her his whole life. He was about thirty with hardly a line around his temples and not a strand of gray amid his chestnut-brown hair. He had a handsome face and sharp eyes, and she guessed in other circumstances his smile would be described as winning, although now he only could muster a slight look of gratefulness for their benefit. The chinos and blue button-down shirt he wore conjured an image of a young Republican in her mind.
    “Please come out to the veranda,” he said. They followed him through the impressive house, whose walls were mostly glass. They exited through a set of enormous French doors onto a deck worthy of the title “veranda.” A tray of iced tea and cookies sat on a table surrounded by plush wicker furniture.
    “Do you live with your parents?” Jane asked.
    “Not usually,” he said, munching on a cookie. “But since this hit the papers they’re trying to protect me. It’s all so unbelievable.”
    While he seemed upset, he wasn’t distraught. He was either incredibly levelheaded as the son of a politician, thought Ari, or he was hiding something.
    “Why don’t you tell us what happened and what you know?” Ari asked.
    He brushed the hair from his forehead and leaned back in the chair. “Apparently Nina was out for her evening run. She always liked to go up to the lookout at Crescent Point. You can see the ocean and the mountainside at the same time. A lot of people get married up there. I’m sure that was part of the attraction for her. The police said someone snuck up from behind and pushed her over the railing. They quickly ruled out accidental death because the railing was too high for her to fall over, but there’s more