Ghost Shadow. Heather Graham

      “Actually, cold cases do get solved. Not all of them, no. And no—I can’t conjure up Tanya to find out what happened.”

      “So you are a photographer?” Sam said, frowning. “And you film stuff, too, for nature films? Underwater—like Sean.”

      “Yep. Oddly enough, yes, Sean and I wound up doing close to the same thing. I do more straight photography than Sean, though.” He waited a minute, but Sam remained silent. “And you—you’re still running charter fishing boats, right?”

      Sam nodded, rubbing his thumb down his beer glass. “Yep, I do fishing charters.”

      “Is there a Mrs. Sam yet?”

      “No. And you—you never married either, huh?”

      “I’m all over the globe,” David said.

      Sam leaned toward him, his grin lopsided and rueful. “Neither one of us has married because we’re both fucked up. The murderer might as well have strangled my folks right alongside my sister. And let’s see—the girl you thought you were going to marry winds up dead and replacing an automaton, and everyone thinks you did it. Hell, yeah, I can see where you’re pretty screwed up in the head.”