Besides, he knew that Missy would have wanted him to marry again. She’d said as much to him more than once-like most couples, they’d played the “what if” game, and though neither of them had ever expected anything terrible to happen, both had been in agreement that it wouldn’t be right for Jonah to grow up with only a single parent. It wouldn’t be right for the surviving spouse. Still, it seemed a little too soon.

As the summer wore on, the thoughts about finding someone new began to surface more frequently and with more intensity. Missy was still there, Missy would always be there… yet Miles began thinking more seriously about finding someone to share his life with. Late at night, while comforting Jonah in the rocking chair out back-it was the only thing that seemed to help with the nightmares-these thoughts seemed strongest and always followed the same pattern. Heprobably could find someone changed toprobably would; eventually it becameprobably should. At this point, however-no matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise-his thoughts still reverted back toprobably won’t. The reason was in his bedroom.

On his shelf, in a bulging manila envelope, sat the file concerning Missy’s death, the one he’d made for himself in the months following her funeral. He kept it with him so he wouldn’t forget what happened, he kept it to remind him of the work he still had to do.

He kept it to remind him of his failure.

***

A few minutes later, after stubbing out the cigarette on the railing and heading inside, Miles poured the coffee he needed and headed down the hall. Jonah was still asleep when he pushed open the door and peeked in. Good, he still had a little time. He headed to the bathroom.

After he turned the faucet, the shower groaned and hissed for a moment before the water finally came. He showered and shaved and brushed his teeth.