Nothing more to do in here. He carefully stepped back into the hallway. The limited light cast long shadows. The narrow staircase ahead of him looked like something that might lead to servants’ quarters in the attic. The steps had no runner, just wood, so he padded up them as quietly as he could. The singing was getting closer now:“In that moment my sun was gone,

And now the rain won’t stop falling,

In an endless spell of time,

In the middle of a moment,

And the moment can’t move on . . .”

Myron reached the landing. In lesser homes, this level might be considered an attic. Here the entire floor had been cleared out to make one expansive room that ran the length of the entire house. Again the lights were low, but the three big-screen televisions on the far end gave the room an eerie glow. All three sets were on sports—a major-league baseball game, ESPN SportsCenter, an overseas basketball game. The volume had been muted. This was the ultimate adult playroom. In the dim light, Myron saw a HorsePower pinball machine. There was a well-stocked mahogany bar with six bar stools and a smoky mirror. The floor was dotted with what looked like upscale beanbag chairs, huge ones, big enough to house an orgy.

One of the beanbag chairs sat center of the three televisions. Myron could see the silhouette of a head. There were bottles of what Myron assumed was booze on the floor next to him.

“Now you’re gone too,

And out in the rain, time stands still,

Without you, time stands—”

The music stopped as though someone had switched it off. Myron could see the man in the beanbag stiffen—or maybe that was his imagination. Myron wasn’t sure what to do here—call out, approach slowly, just wait?—but the decision was soon made for him.

The man in the beanbag chair stumbled to a stand. He turned toward Myron, the glow from the televisions keeping him a dark silhouette. More as a reaction than anything else, Myron moved his hand toward the weapon in his pocket.

The man said, “Hey, Myron.”

It wasn’t Gabriel Wire.

“Lex?”

He was teetering, probably from drink. If Lex was surprised to see Myron here, he wasn’t showing it. His reactions had probably been dulled by the bottle. Lex spread his arms and moved toward Myron. Myron came toward him, nearly catching Lex as he collapsed into Myron’s arms. Lex dug his face into Myron’s shoulder. Myron held him up.

Through the tears, Lex kept repeating, “My fault. It’s all my fault.”

Myron tried to comfort and hush him. It took some time. Lex reeked of whiskey. Myron let him cry it out. He moved Lex toward a bar stool and perched him on it. In his Bluetoothed ear, Myron could hear Win say, “I had to put the security guard down. Safely, don’t worry. But you might want to pick up the pace here.”

Myron nodded as though Win could see him. Lex was pretty wasted. Myron decided to skip the preliminaries and get right to it. “Why did you call Suzze?”

“Huh?”

“Lex, I don’t have time for this, so please listen up. Suzze received a call from you yesterday morning. After that, she ran off to see Kitty and Alista Snow’s father. Then she came back home and overdosed. What did you say?”

He started sobbing again. “It was my fault.”

“What did you say, Lex?”

“I took my own advice.”

“What advice?”

“I told you. At Three Downing. Remember?”

Myron did. “No secrets from the one you love.”

“Exactly.” He swayed from the booze. “So I told my true love the truth. After all these years. I should have told her years ago but I figured that somehow, Suzze always knew. You know what I mean?”

Myron didn’t have a clue.

“Like deep down I thought she always knew the truth. Like it wasn’t all a coincidence.”

Oh man, it was tough to talk to a drunk. “What wasn’t a coincidence, Lex?”

“Us falling in love. Like it was preordained. Like she always knew the truth. You know, deep down inside. And maybe—who knows?—maybe she did. Subconsciously. Or maybe she fell for the music, not the man. Like the two are interwoven anyway. How do you separate the man from the music? Like that.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth.” Lex started to cry again. “And now she’s dead. I was wrong, Myron. The truth didn’t set us free. The truth was too much to handle. That’s the part I forgot. The truth can bring you closer together, but it can also be too much to bear.”

“What truth, Lex?”

He started sobbing.

“What did you tell Suzze?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead. What’s the difference now?”

Myron decided to shift gears. “Do you remember my brother, Brad?”

Lex stopped crying. He looked confused now.

“I think my brother might be in trouble because of all this.”

“Because of what I said to Suzze?”

“Yes. Maybe. That’s why I’m here.”

“Because of your brother?” He thought about it. “I can’t see how. Oh, wait.” He stopped and said something that made Myron’s blood chill. “Yes. I guess, even after all these years, it could have led back to your brother.”

“How?”

Lex shook his head. “My Suzze . . .”

“Please, Lex, tell me what you told her.”

More sobbing. More shaking of his head. Myron had to move him along.

“Suzze was in love with Gabriel Wire, wasn’t she?”

Lex sniffled some more, wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve. “How did you know?”

“The tattoo.”

He nodded. “Suzze drew that, you know.”

“I know.”

“It was Hebrew and Gallic letters combined into a love sonnet. Suzze was so artistic.”

“So they were lovers?”

He frowned now. “She thought that I didn’t know. That was her secret. She loved him.” Lex’s voice turned bitter. “Everyone loves Gabriel Wire. Do you know how old Suzze was when she started up with him?”

“Sixteen,” Myron said.

Lex nodded. “Wire always liked to seduce the young ones. Not prepubescent. He wasn’t into that. Just young. So he let Suzze and Kitty and some of the other tennis girls party with us. The famous with the famous. Rock star with tennis starlet. A match made in celebrity heaven. Me, I never paid much attention to them. Enough girls around so that you didn’t need someone illegal, you know what I mean?”