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the aging knee of an oak tree. The front yard glowed with clusters of flowers shaped like pink pinwheels.
    Cajun hibiscus. Aurora almost said it out loud. It had been her mother’s favorite flower, one of the few facts she knew about Raylene. She loved Cajun hibiscus, her favorite food was fried okra, and she was afraid of thunder and lightning. Each detail of her mother that Aurora had caught she had treasured like a jewel, repeated like a mantra. They breathed life into the photographic images she had; they were something to cling to after the sound of her mother’s voice had faded from her memory.
    Papa had known, too. He’d kept his daughter’s favorite flower blooming in the front yard; had cared for this place for twenty years from thousands of miles away, without ever mentioning it to her once. Aurora’s eyes flicked over the photographs on Luna Riley’s desk, photographs of a real family, their arms entwined on beaches and in front of a Christmas tree and at an outdoor wedding. They were making memories for themselves, creating legacies, leaving something real behind, not just a file full of papers and a secret house on a bayou.
    “When did he get this house?”
    “Your mother grew up there,” Luna said gently. “Your grandfather built it with his own hands. It’s been in your family for quite some time.”
    Aurora stared without replying, hypnotized by the photograph. “Does anyone live there now?”
    “No, but your grandfather hired a local gentleman to help with the day-to-day upkeep. He wired him money every month for maintenance, repairs, that kind of thing. His contact information is somewhere in here, along with the deed. Here we go.” Luna held up a page. “Jefferson Gibbs. I have a phone number there in the file.”
    “I’m sorry, Ms. Riley, I just—I didn’t know any of this. It’s just a lot to take in.” Aurora felt warmth rising to her face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
    “Well, of course it is.” Luna reached across the desk and patted Aurora’s hand. “I wish there was more I could do to help, but I’m not licensed in Florida. I’ve done some research to point you in the right direction.”
    “What do I need to do next?”
    Luna indicated the pile on her desk. “Florida law requires that you file the will in local circuit court after learning of the death. Then they’ll decide whether or not it has to go through probate.”
    “I have to go to court?”
    “Maybe, maybe not. A good attorney should be able to figure out your options. Then if you want to sell the house, you’ll need to get the title cleared, get the property inspected, that sort of thing. It may take some time.” She handed Aurora a business card. “Royce Beaumont is a dear old friend of mine. He knew your family, and he handles these matters. You can trust him.”
    She was going to have to go back. Cooper’s Bayou. Aurora wanted to slide time back a few weeks, before Papa’s death had brought the past hurtling into the present. The thought of returning to the place of her birth—alone—brought a chill with it. She would have to ask for bereavement leave from work. How long would it take to sort through all of this?
    “Did Papa know about all of this? That I would have to take care of it?”
    Luna folded her arms. “I told him that you would have to go to Florida to handle the property. He was aware of it.”
    So he knew. “He never wanted me to go there when he was alive. Cooper’s Bayou—he never talked about it.” Papa had hidden the past for twenty years to protect her from the ghosts that waited there. There had to be a good reason.
    Luna nodded. “Maybe,” she said, “he was ready for you to find out why.”

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    “I need to see you in my office first thing, Hudson. We need to talk. Now.”
    The voice mail Captain Rush had left on Josh’s cell was not the harbinger of a good day. Josh took a long swallow of his coffee.
    He walked the two blocks from Java