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launch for a bend in the highway. I didn’t even see the ramp, and hit it going probably fifty miles an hour. That’s what the sheriff estimated, anyway.
    I got out of the car with the help of some people who had been sitting in a van, smoking marijuana. Lisa Marie didn’t. Her body washed up right here in Boyne City five days later, blood full of alcohol, lungs full of water.
    I wasn’t lying to Schaumburg. There were many days when I would gladly change places with her.
    Could she have gotten out at the 7-Eleven? I tried to remember if I had seen her when I got back in the car, if she had said anything, made a noise. It certainly felt as if she were still there.
    And if she wasn’t in the car, why did two searchers find her body floating in the cold gray waters of Lake Charlevoix?
    â€œYou’ve never seen her before? This Amy Jo?” Katie asked.
    â€œI swear it.”
    â€œWhy would she say that? About Lisa Marie Walker?”
    â€œI don’t know, but she seemed to believe it.”
    â€œIs there … Is it possible?”
    â€œI don’t know. But if it is, Katie, it means that my whole life went off course, that I lost everything I had, all for a lie.”
    We stared at each other. Light snow was falling, landing in the fur hood around her face and sticking there. Under any other circumstances, I would have been unable to resist pulling her to me and kissing her, but I just stood there. “What is it? Why did you come looking for me?” I asked finally.
    â€œOh.” Her face fell. “Ruddy, I am so sorry. I have news.”
    She stood there and tried to control her emotions, and I stood there, waiting for whatever bad thing she was going to tell me, my heart thudding. “It’s about Milt,” she was able to say before she came into my arms, pressing her face to my shoulder. The rest of her words were muffled by my coat, but I still heard her.
    â€œHe’s dead, Ruddy. Milt killed himself.”

 
    4
    Aloha Means Everything
    Tom actually came out from behind the counter at the pharmacy, something I’d never seen him do. If someone had asked me, I would have speculated that after closing hours he slept in a box in the back. But he wanted to tell me how sorry he was about Milt, and he shook my hand with grim formality.
    Tom’s mustache is as bristly as a whisk broom and actually makes a scraping sound when he rubs it. It’s a sandy color, like his hair—blond but with a lot of what could almost be dirt in it. “So, do they know what happened?” he asked me.
    I shook my head. We sat down in chairs in the small waiting area. “It looks like he closed his garage door, started his engine, and then just sat there and drank vodka until the fumes got to him.” Thinking of him dying like that always gave me a stabbing sensation in my gut, and this time was no different.
    â€œDid anybody…” He struggled with how to put his question and then gave up. “This is such a shock.”
    â€œNo one had a clue this might be brewing, as far as I know. I can’t think of any reason for him to do this, though I guess there’s no such thing as a good reason. But business has been good, we’re getting more skip tracing work, he was healthy.…” I trailed off as a shadow passed through Tom’s eyes. “What is it?”
    â€œNothing.”
    It wasn’t nothing. I could tell. If Milt was sick, Tom might know—but of course he couldn’t tell me. “How’s his wife? How’s Trisha?” he inquired after a moment.
    I shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to her, but I guess not well. It’s just awful.”
    We both sat there quietly for a moment.
    â€œWhat does this mean for you, then?” he asked finally.
    â€œBesides losing my friend, you mean? I don’t know. Milt was the business; it was always just him in that office. I’ve got some repo assignments I