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said.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œHe found her name and number in an address book.” Casey made a right turn onto Commercial Drive. “It makes me wonder if she knows more than she told Lalonde. I mean, she knew about me, and Mother always did attract trouble.”
    â€œLillian didn’t attract trouble, she sought it out. That’s partly what made her so interesting.”
    â€œShe came from a corrupt family, Rhonda. Wasn’t Mother’s policy to run away before anyone asked questions?”
    â€œNot always.” Rhonda picked at a blueberry. “Danger fascinated Lillian. In tenth grade, a classmate had a seizure in the science lab after school, and only Lillian and I were there.” Rhonda popped the berry in her mouth. “I went to get help, but Lillian wanted to watch.”
    Casey turned left onto Venables. “Watching people suffer evolved into making them suffer. How many marriages did her affairs destroy? Six? Seven?”
    â€œFive, but things worked out for some of us. Your dad and I fell in love.”
    What about all the other families? “You sound awfully forgiving.”
    â€œThe older I get, the more I understand Lillian’s instability.” She turned to Casey. “She needed men to feel alive. She couldn’t control it. My lousy ex, on the other hand, could have controlled his lust if he’d wanted to.”
    â€œSemantics.”
    â€œI’ve known your mother since we were seven years old, sweetie. I knew her better than her folks and Marcus did. She’s to be pitied, not hated.”
    Maybe, maybe not. Minutes later, she drove across the Lions Gate Bridge, grateful for not having to use this aging three-lane structure often. Beautiful as West Van was, with its executive homes and panoramic views of ferries gliding back and forth, she preferred living among the wider variety of incomes, lifestyles, and ethnic backgrounds in East Vancouver.
    By the time she reached Marine Drive, Casey found herself brooding over Dad again. Had he lived alone? Given his charm and looks, he should have found a lover. She glanced at Rhonda, who was trying to see beyond all the locked gates and tall hedges. The sky had lightened up enough to provide glimpses of elaborate, multi-level houses. Some were built closer down to the water, so only roofs and skylights were visible from the road.
    â€œHow could Marcus have afforded this area?” Rhonda murmured.
    â€œDo we want to know?” Casey scanned house numbers posted on gates. “There it is, on the left.”
    She pulled over and studied a two-story structure partially concealed by bushes bordering the property. Two police cruisers and a familiar Sebring were parked in front. Crap, what was Lalonde doing here so early?
    â€œWe’ll never get inside now,” Rhonda said.
    â€œThis is waterfront property. There’s probably beach access somewhere.”
    Casey drove on until she spotted a footpath between two homes. She parked on the shoulder, four houses down from Dad’s place.
    When they reached the beach, Rhonda said, “Oh god, Marcus brought me here once. Showed me where he wanted to build his dream home.” She walked on.
    While Casey picked her way along the narrow rocky beach, she remembered Dad saying that Rhonda made him feel good about himself, that he felt easy and relaxed around her. Why had everything changed?
    â€œWhen did Dad bring you here?”
    â€œA month after we got engaged. Then he got busy with work and we never came back.”
    Five years ago. They’d never set a wedding date. Surely Dad wouldn’t have faked his own death to avoid marriage. He’d ended relationships before, maturely and face-to-face. He wouldn’t have run from Rhonda, would he?
    Dad’s trademark rectangular design was easy to spot. Homes on either side were varying levels and angles, but Dad had preferred straight, simple lines that critics had called boring. Truth