THE PRESENT

Nothing Helina had said about Washington State prepared Liv for its reality. In late January, she'd been led to believe the Puget Sound Region wore a mask of grey, its two mountain ranges obscured for so long, one had to take it on faith that they still existed. Boarding a shuttle bus that would carry her from SeaTac Airport south to Tacoma, west over a bridge and then north onto the Kitsap Peninsula, she realized Helina had left out a few key details.

To be sure, the grey was there—a sky sketched in graphite—but below it, despite winter weather, the land wore a shocking amount of green. Lawns and shrubs seemingly unaffected by the cold could almost be called verdant; on both sides of the highway once they had crossed onto the peninsula, towering evergreen forests reigned. Liv was accustomed to Wisconsin weather, where January meant days seldom above freezing, dormant flora, and great mounds of plowed snow, darkened by car exhaust, taking up precious parking spaces until the spring thaw.

"We really only have two seasons here in Western Washington," Graham would tell her later that day. "Wet and dry. During the summer, the grass turns brown, and every flame becomes a fire hazard. I'll take the rain, honestly."

After nearly two hours, the bus pulled into a gas station with little else around it besides roads Liv imagined led to populated enclaves, homes above moss-clad cliffs overlooking the Sound. Liv retrieved her one carryon—no need to pack more since she wouldn't be staying long—and made her way outside. She took a deep breath, filling her nose with a mix of gasoline and something sweet-smelling and unfamiliar to her, likely originating from the surrounding vegetation.

Wheeling her tiny suitcase, she walked towards the station's door, wondering if she had time to grab a snack from the convenience store before her ride showed up.

A dark blue Subaru Forester parked nearby let out a beep. The window rolled down and a hand emerged, waving at her. Ignoring her empty stomach, she reversed course and approached the car.

The man in the driver's seat gave her what she assumed was an attempt at a welcoming smile, but there was a strain behind it, like the required muscles had atrophied from lack of use. "It's good to see you again," Graham said as he opened his door. "Let me help you with your luggage."

"No need," Liv said, but he had already grabbed it from her. As he secured her suitcase in the back of the vehicle, she searched his face for familiarity. Older, a fuller beard, the same dark, penetrating eyes she remembered from their brief encounter years earlier. "I'd forgotten that we met."

Closing the hatchback, he gestured her over to the passenger's side of the car. "It was the weekend I came to visit Helina at college."

"Oh, that's right," she said, pretending she'd just had her memory jogged.

"Helina had talked so much about you—everything was Liv this and Liv that. I was hoping to get to know you, but..."

But Liv's boyfriend at the time had taken one look at Graham with those deep, searching eyes of his and cheekbones to rival Cillian Murphy's and decided it would be a great idea for Liv to stay at his apartment for the weekend. What a tool that jealous moron of a boyfriend had turned out to be.

Now, years later, here they were again. Graham and Liv, two strangers with one degree of separation and not much else between them. Liv would have said "maybe you'll get another shot with me now," but that seem a trivial and slightly provocative thing to say considering the circumstances.

She glanced his way and just as fast averted her gaze when she realized they were about to make eye contact. His presence carried a sadness that would tear a hole in her heart if she wasn't careful to guard it from him.

They drove north, passing a small town with busy roadways and taking several turns before the traffic thinned and the landscape became rural farmland pockmarked with dense forested stretches. After several miles, Liv stopped trying to route their course in her head and let the world pass with less scrutiny. Helina had known all these turns from memory. She could name the tiny towns and neighborhoods, as well as the coves and harbors and inlets. What would it have been like to drive these stretches with all those placenames in your head, every random tree familiar.

"Long flight?" Graham asked and she realized she'd been silent longer than what was socially acceptable.

"Long day." And month and year and life. "Sorry, you'll find I'm a shitty small talker."

He nodded. "We'll be there soon."

A few minutes later, he pulled onto a road that seemed to serve no purpose other than to cut crudely through the belly of a woods. Spindly branches scratched at the car's roof. The Subaru jostled even at the school zone speed with which Graham drove. "Can't get by out here without a vehicle that will handle this," he said as they hit another pothole.

Liv gripped the car door, wondering if this was to be her fate—bouncing along on a muddy road forever, never-ending nausea and a buildup of bile threatening to decimate the interior of Graham's car.

A minute later, mercy found her. Graham turned off the road onto a driveway that was graciously short. A two-story home appeared in the middle of a small clearing. The house looked to have been built sometime in the first half of the twentieth century, but it was well tended, with trim recently painted a bright red to stand out cheerfully against the home's weathered cedar shingles.

Graham cut the engine.

Having seen Helina primarily in an urban environment, it was hard to imagine her emersed in this strangely hermetic setting. "So, this is where Helina was living?"

"It belonged to our grandparents. My great-grandfather built it in the mid-forties. It was passed down to my grandmother, and now..." Frowning, he got out of the car and circled around it to retrieve Liv's suitcase. "Come on. I'll give you the tour."

This took all of two minutes. Inside, a cozy living room with wide farm plank flooring opened to a dining area with an attached kitchenette. To the right of the entrance, a steep staircase led to three small bedrooms and a bathroom. Graham led her through each room, save for two bedrooms with closed doors.

"You'll be staying in here," he said, pointing to an open-doored room with a full-sized bed covered in a faded patchwork quilt. Its sole window looked out onto the side of the house facing the driveway. A metal two-car garage that seemed to be a later addition to the property stuck out from the earthier elements surrounding it. Beyond that, the woods loomed dark and silent.

"Our parents sometimes come over from Edmonds to visit. They like to spend weekends with us, so we keep this room made up for them."

She nodded. "And the other two rooms?"

"The first door on the right is Helina's. The one next to it is mine."

"Yours?" She didn't mean to sound surprised. Most likely, he had told her that he lived here during their phone conversation. Had she been listening to him the entire time, this reveal wouldn't have been such a shock. She vacillated between annoyance and relief that she wouldn't be staying in this isolated house all alone.

"It was willed to my mother, who bequeathed it to both Helina and me. I was already living here when Helina moved in. I told you this already."

"Right, yeah you did. I remember." She didn't. He'd probably said all sorts of things over the phone that would be useful to know now, but she'd been several shots in by that point in their conversation. The whole phone call existed in a fuzzy corner of her mind. It was downright miraculous that she'd remembered to book herself a flight the next morning.

He gave her another one of his uncomfortable smiles. "Is this going to be a problem? There's a lock on your door if that makes you feel safer."

"Why wouldn't I feel safe?"

"Well... My sister is missing, and I was the last person to see her. Doesn't that make me a suspect?"

Only in a fantasy universe where Liv was a detective instead of a data scientist. "You called me. If you were guilty of doing something to your sister, you'd let everyone go on thinking she was at a beach house overlooking the Pacific. You wouldn't call up one of her old friends and ask her to probe your own crime."

He held out his hands in acquiescence. "I just want you to feel comfortable."

Easier said than done given his own unease. "I'm like, sunk into a beanbag eating edibles level of comfort. You can chill, okay?"

He led her back out to the hallway. "I suppose you'll want to see Helina's room now."

He supposed wrong. As if on cue, Liv's stomach growled. "I haven't eaten since early this morning. Any chance I can get some food before I investigate a spectral kidnapping?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I make a mean turkey and pesto panini."

Down in the kitchen, panini consumed, Liv searched for another reason to postpone the inevitable trip to Helina's room. Fixating on Graham's cheekbones as he loaded plates into the dishwasher, she could think of a few pleasant activities that might buy her some time.

"It's getting late," he said, turning around and leaning against the butcher block counter. "You're probably exhausted. Maybe we should wait until the morning. Dive in when we're well rested."

Relief washed over her, as well as confusion. Graham had been so insistent she get here as soon as she could, and now he was hedging as much as she was. "That's probably a good idea."

"Before you head up to bed..." He opened the lid of a cookie jar and brought out a plastic bag filled with what looked to be bright yellow gummies. "Earlier, you mentioned edibles." He waved the bag at her. "You want one?"

Did she? Liv took the bag and popped one in her mouth, then handed it back to him.

An hour later, they found temporary relief for their disquiet, sitting together in the living room, joking about inconsequential things that had nothing to do with ghosts or broken friendships or missing sisters.

Mid laugh, Liv's brain decided to cut back to reality. You don't deserve this joy, it told her.

"What was that?" Graham's expression returned to its pre-cannabis grimace. "Why would you say that to me?"

Liv fought for clear-headedness, but it was her murky mind that threw out the dumbest theory it could come up with. "Are you a mind reader?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Graham angled himself as far from her on the couch as he could get. "You said I don't deserve joy. Out loud."

She fought for an explanation that would make sense to him and came up with, "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He studied her with an intensity that did nothing to ease her growing paranoia. "But here's the thing: it didn't sound like you, Liv. It sounded like..." He crumpled forward, head between his knees, hands behind his neck. "I don't know. I don't know."

Shaking herself, Liv got up and made her way to the stairs. "We're just high, Graham. All you heard is me hating myself because that's what I do. You'll get used to it."

No response.

Liv climbed the stairs. She needed sleep, to shut her mind down for the night. Passing Helina's room, she paused, imagining that her former friend was inside working late into the night on one of her impossible projects.

When had her hand grasped the knob? Her wrist twisted to the left, the door about to open as she pushed on the knob. Gasping, she grabbed her wayward hand back, holding it against her chest with her opposite hand like it was a puppy that had tried to run out into traffic.

Breathing hard, she crossed the hallway to her room. This nonsense had to be the edible's doing. Locking the door behind her, she slid to the floor, her legs shaking too much to keep her on her feet.

You don't deserve this joy.

Wherever this thought had originated, Liv couldn't deny its bitter truth.