It was simply a name in a file that had previously held an empty space.

The plate matched the camera image.

The booking covered my birthday weekend.

When Martha explained this, I thought about the dinner conversation.

Daniel had asked about my life as though he were discovering it.

At least some of what he discovered had been supplied to him before he sat down.

The matchbook from Blue Harbor Marina remained only a loose lead.

Nobody could tell me who had left it, and I stopped giving it a place in every possible theory.