Page 65 of Last Seen

Miles scowls and tsks sympathetically. “Oh, that poor woman. She had an incredibly hard time of it. Lost herself, lost her job, her marriage, her family, her housing. My friends took pity on her and let her stay in their home here, and for a while I thought Ms. Kade was going to recover. Fit in. But her demons were clearly too much for her. I hated to hear of her death. A true loss to those who cared about her.”

Theo jerks upright. “Excuse me? Her death?”

“You didn’t hear? Oh, how clumsy of me. My apologies. Ms. Kade passed away last night.”

Theo stares at Miles. Something shifts behind the man’s eyes.

On the surface, Miles Brockton looks benign.

Distinguished. He has actor hair and dark-blue eyes, is clearly strong and in shape for a man of his age.

He is hale and hearty and beloved. And yet somewhere, deep inside him, lurks a demon that Theo can see as clearly as if he’s backlit with fire.

He doesn’t believe Donnata Kade died by accident. Not for one second.

“How?” he manages. He wants to step across the room, put his hand around Brockton’s throat, and squeeze until the man squeals. He holds himself steady, though. Any false moves and Halley could be lost forever.

“Her car skidded off the road coming over the mountain last night. It was raining. She went right over the edge.”

“Last night?”

“Overnight. Yes.”

Miles Brockton has just told him a whopper of a lie. Donnata Kade was in Nashville as of five hours ago. There’s no way she could have died here last night. And Miles doesn’t know it.

“Can I see her body?”

“I’m afraid that’s not my decision to make. You can speak to my son, Sheriff Brockton, and make a formal request of him. Because you’re law enforcement, he may determine it appropriate. May I ask, was she a friend?”

“You could call her that. I’m certainly shocked to hear this.”

“I do offer my deepest condolences. Now, what else can I show you here in our fine village?”

Call him on it? Or get the hell out of there? He opts for the latter. Something is rotten here, and he needs a plan. And firepower. And backup. But before he goes ...

“One last question. I’ve heard tell there’s an anechoic chamber here in Brockville.”

Miles smile widens in delight. “As it happens, yes. I had one built many years ago. I don’t know how much you know about my background, Agent Donovan, but as much as I take pride and joy in this little community we’ve built, I so enjoy silence.

As a youth, I spent time in the wilderness, first in Alaska, then in Maine.

I was able to be alone, truly alone, just myself and the earth and the sky, and that’s not something we can often do in this world.

I try to bring that experience to those who live and visit here.

There are a wide variety of sensory-deprivation therapies that we use for people who seek to quiet their minds.

” He leans against the thick slab table, letting his weight sit in his palms. “We are bombarded by sensations. Overwhelmed by them, I would say. The world we find ourselves in now, with computers and phones and the internet, all the dings and bells, it is not a natural state. The way we stare at screens is not something our primordial brains can handle. Oh, we convince ourselves otherwise, let children watch dancing bears and tell ourselves they are being entertained, but the truth of the matter is we are ruining them. Ruined children grow into ruinous adults. Technology has seen to that.”

“Interesting theory.”

“When you have children, you will understand. You will watch them and realize they are never happier than when they can see the sky. It’s incontrovertible.

It resolves everything. Beach, a forest, a park, it matters not so long as there is sun and rain and wind at their backs.

As for the rest of the time, when we are overwhelmed, there is nothing the brain wants more than to be placed back in its embryonic state.

Its biologically appropriate state. That’s what my therapies do.

Goodness, that’s the very mission of Brockville. We help people recalibrate.”

“People willingly recalibrate with sensory deprivation? From what I understand, the anechoic chamber can cause serious problems for people.”

“Oh, no one is allowed in that chamber but me and a very few investors who are familiar with its effects. I have trained my mind, you see, to be able to withstand the lack of senses. But for a normal person just seeking an escape, the float tanks are our state-of-the-art treatment. Why?” His eyes twinkle; the amiable old man is back.

“Do you find yourself needing an escape?”

“I’d like to see it. The chamber.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. But I’m sure we can get you over to Canter and into one of the less intense sensory tanks right away.”

Impasse. Miles Brockton is a cool customer.

“I appreciate the offer. Maybe another time.”

“Whenever you’re ready. It’s ironic, I’d just suggested the same to your wife before she snapped. Her energies were all over the place. She needed to be brought back into equilibrium. Sadly, I was too late to help her. Now, shall we?” Miles gestures toward the door.

“Sure. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Appreciate it. If you hear anything about Halley, please call me. Think I’ll go bend your son’s ear for a bit. You say he’s in Canter?”

“The sheriff’s office is in Somer. You can follow me.”

“No, that’s fine. I can find it.”

Is he going to allow this? Letting the ATF agent with the missing wife and a whole lot of questions wander the town unattended?

“I’ll let Cameron know you’re on your way.”

He holds the cottage door for Theo, who has no choice but to walk through into the Japanese garden. It smells different from when they went in. Instead of cedar and holly, there is a faint scent of char in the air.

Just as his brain registers Smoke , Miles gasps. “Oh my God. It’s burning.”