Sully handed Boon tools sometimes without being asked, which meant he still knew what each job required before the hand reached out, which was the kind of knowledge that didn’t go away regardless of the years between. On the second evening, Boon told Sully about Ruth, about Walt’s box in the garage, about the 9 years she’d kept it. Sully listened without interrupting. When Boon finished, Sully was quiet a while. “Dutton told me Walt Callahan was becoming a problem,” Sully said.

That was his exact word. A problem for Pierce. He looked at the garage ceiling. If Pierce had anything to do with that road, “We don’t know,” Boon said. “No,” Sully said.

“But somebody should. ” Sully left Saturday morning before the town was up, before the diner opened, before the day had committed to being anything particular. Boon walked him out to the Sportster. The air had gone properly cold, the kind that came off the Tennessee hills in late October, and reminded you that warmth was earned, not assumed. Sully pulled on his jacket, checked his saddle bag straps, not because they needed checking, but because riders always did, because the ritual of it settled something before a long road. The photograph, Sully said.

Make copies. Store them somewhere separate from your house and from each other. Already done, Boon said. Sully nodded. He swung a leg over the bike.

Sat without starting it. One more thing, he said. He looked at the handlebars rather than at Boon. What happened in Portland? I spent years being angry about it.

Then I spent time trying to understand it. Then I spent time deciding whether to stay angry or let it be what it actually was. He looked up. What it was was you making a call in 10 seconds that I’ve had 22 years to analyze. And you were right.

I’ve known you were right for a long time. Boon said nothing. I’m not saying it’s completely settled, Sully said. It’s mostly settled and mostly is more than I thought I’d get to. He looked at Boon directly.

You’re doing right by your daughter. I can see it. Trying to, Boon said. Trying’s most of it, Sully said. He reached out his hand.

Boon shook it. The handshake of two men who had been through something considerable together and had come out the other side changed by it. Not friends exactly. Not anymore. Something older than friendship, something that didn’t have a clean name and didn’t need one.