Vale owned a private airfield.

He also owned two helicopters.

But the money trail suggested something different.

A company plane had filed a flight plan for Montreal.

Dana sent agents.

The aircraft was empty.

Grant stared at maps covering the conference room table.

“He wants us looking north.”

Dana crossed her arms.

“You think he's going south?”

“No.”

Grant traced the coastline with his finger.

“He thinks like a shipping man.”

His finger stopped near Block Island.

My stomach tightened.

“The island?”

Grant shook his head.

“The waters around it.”

Dana leaned closer.

Grant explained that Vale had spent decades hiding ownership through shell companies.

One vessel appeared repeatedly in old financial records.

The Bellweather.

Officially, it had been sold five years earlier.

In reality, Grant believed Vale still controlled it.

The ship was registered as a coastal research vessel.

Its route that week took it directly through the same waters where Grant had disappeared.

I looked at him.

“That's not a coincidence.”

“No.”

The Bellweather was scheduled to depart Newport before dawn.

Dana mobilized the Coast Guard.

Grant insisted on going.

This time Dana didn't argue.

“You can identify Vale's internal systems.”

Then she looked at me.

“You stay here.”

“No.”

Grant and Dana spoke at the same time.

“Laura.”

I glared at both of them.

Grant stepped closer.

“Please.”

That word stopped me.

“This isn't about shutting you out.”

“Feels familiar.”

“I know.”

He caught himself before repeating the phrase again.

Then he tried something different.

“I have already asked too much of you.”

His eyes moved toward Miles.

“Stay with him.”

I wanted to argue.

Instead, I looked at our son.

He had spent three years without one parent.

I wasn't going to risk giving him the same nightmare twice.

“Bring yourself back.”

Grant's expression tightened.

“I'll try.”

“No.”

I stepped closer.

“You don't get to disappear heroically.”

A faint smile crossed his face.

“I won't.”

Miles approached.

Grant knelt.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Miles removed the spiral notebook from his backpack.

He handed it to Grant.

“You bought me this.”

Grant took it.

“I remember.”

“I kept drawing things I wanted to show you.”

Grant opened the first page.

A childish sketch of our house.

Another page showed the three of us holding hands.

Another showed a boat.

Grant's eyes filled.

Miles pointed to the notebook.

“You have to come back because there are a lot of pages.”

Grant pressed his lips together.

“I'll come back.”

Miles hugged him.

I watched Grant walk toward the door with Dana.

Just before leaving, he turned.

For fifteen years, Grant had rubbed the base of his ring finger whenever he was nervous.

He did it now.

Then he looked at me.

I realized he wasn't wearing a wedding ring.

Neither was I.

Still, the habit remained.

Some things survived even when everything else changed.