Conrad Vale never made bail.

The evidence from Grant's drive triggered investigations across six states and three countries.

Vale Maritime collapsed within months.

Executives were arrested.

Accounts were frozen.

Former employees began cooperating.

Families who had spent years believing accidents and disappearances were unrelated finally received answers.

Owen pleaded guilty to conspiracy, unlawful surveillance, and several financial crimes.

His cooperation reduced his sentence.

I visited him once.

Not for Grant.

Not for Owen.

For myself.

He cried when he apologized.

I believed he was sorry.

I also understood that forgiveness and reconciliation were different things.

Miles wrote him one letter.

Then he stopped.

Grant rented an apartment twelve minutes from our house.

At first, Miles visited for two hours at a time.

Then afternoons.

Then weekends.

Trust returned slowly.

Painfully.

Honestly.

Grant started therapy.

So did Miles.

Eventually, so did I.

Grant legally restored the name Grant Harper.

Evan Cole remained part of his history, but Grant was the identity attached to the life he wanted to rebuild.

Our divorce attorney became our separation attorney instead.

Then, after eight months, the paperwork stopped moving entirely.

I still didn't know what that meant.

Neither did Grant.

For once, neither of us tried to force an answer.

On the anniversary of his disappearance, the three of us returned to Block Island.

Miles carried his old spiral notebook.

We stood near the water as the wind pushed against our coats.

Grant stared at the horizon.

“I used to think about this place every night.”

Miles looked at him.

“Because you almost died here?”

Grant shook his head.

“Because this was the last place I was your dad without having to pretend I wasn't.”

Miles considered that.

Then he handed Grant the notebook.

Grant opened it.

The final page contained a drawing.

Three people stood outside a house.

The figure in the middle was Miles.

I stood on one side.

Grant stood on the other.

But unlike the childhood drawings, our hands weren't connected.

Grant stared at it.

Miles shrugged.

“We're still working on that part.”

Grant laughed.

So did I.

Then Miles walked toward the railing.

Grant stood beside me.

Our shoulders almost touched.

“You okay?”

I asked.

“No.”

The honesty surprised me.

“But better.”

I nodded.

“Me too.”

Grant looked at me.

“Laura?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for following me off that plane.”

I smiled faintly.

“I almost didn't.”

“I know.”

“You would have disappeared again.”

“No.”

I looked at him.

Grant shook his head.

“I couldn't after seeing Miles.”

I studied his face.

“And me?”

His eyes softened.

“I was already lost after seeing you.”

I looked toward the ocean before he could see the tears in my eyes.

Then something warm touched my hand.

Grant's fingers.

He didn't grab me.

He didn't assume.

He simply left his hand there.

After a few seconds, I turned mine over.

Our fingers closed together.

Miles noticed.

He smiled.

But he didn't say anything.