My digital footprints had been washed away like footprints in the wet sand outside my door.

“Arthur thinks you are in Miami,” Julian said. “He sent three men to the keys yesterday.”

“Let them enjoy the sun,” I said.

“But Gregory is smarter than he looks when he is desperate,” Julian warned. “He knows you had a cousin in Maine.”

I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the plastic casing of the burner phone.

The cousin had died ten years ago, but the family plot was still registered under my mother’s maiden name.

“Gregory doesn’t have the patience to search cemetery records,” I said.

“Maybe not,” Julian said. “But Arthur is putting pressure on him. Gregory’s life depends on finding you.”

I hung up the phone.

I did not wait for Julian to say goodbye.

I pulled the battery out of the burner phone and dropped both pieces into a glass of salty tap water on the dresser.

The copper contacts hissed faintly, then went quiet.

I went to the kitchen and made a cup of black tea, waiting for the water to boil on the old electric stove.