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It was a fair question. “I don’t know. I just feel it.” I eased the car forward, heading up the ramp. We hadn’t seen a single vehicle enter or leave while we’d been parked; the car park was as silent as the graveyard we’d just left.

At least there were no walls to climb. All I had to do was drive up and get out.

“I want to thank you,” I said as we reached the second floor. “For everything. For being there. For listening. For―”

“No.”

My gaze shot to him. “No?”

“You’re not giving me a final speech.”

“It’s not a final speech.”

“It sure sounds like one. Thank me later.”

I nodded. “Physically or verbally?”

“Both. Verbally. Then physically. Then verbally again.”

I smiled. “That’s an awful lot of gratitude. I’m not sure I’m that thankful.”

Instead of answering, Lake leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I turned my head just enough for our lips to brush, careful not to take my eyes off the tarmac for long.

When he sat back, I suddenly had a thousand things I wanted to say with no time to say them.

“I know,” Lake said. “I feel the same.”

“You’re not supposed to be able to read minds.”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s contagious.”

The fourth floor passed. One more.

“I’m glad we came here before,” I said. “Without that, I’m not sure I could do this.”

“You could,” he said. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

And then we were on the fifth floor. A painted warning loomed on the wall: NO VEHICLE ACCESS ABOVE THIS POINT.

The space was vast and almost empty, save for four cars. Five, if you included mine. Did one of them belong to Owen? There was no way to know for sure. All were unoccupied, as far as I could tell. My phone vibrated again. I pulled it out, saw Ben’s name, and slid it into the glove compartment. Lake noticed, but said nothing.

We sat there. Silent. Breathing. Unmoving.

“Tell me about someone inspiring,” I said.

Lake exhaled heavily, as though even history had momentarily failed him. Then he straightened. “Have you heard of Harriet Tubman?”

I shook my head. “Who was she?”

“She was an American who escaped slavery in 1839 by crossing rivers in the dead of night and hiding in the forest. She made it north and earned her freedom.”

“Good for her.”

“I haven’t reached the inspiring part.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “She went back thirteen times to rescue others, including family and friends. She led men, women, and children through swamps, across frozen rivers, past armed patrols, and never lost a single person. Slavers posted rewards for her capture, but it didn’t stop her. After the Civil War began, she led a military raid that freed over seven hundred enslaved people in a single night.”

“That is inspiring,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “If Harriet Tubman could do all that, I think I can get out of a car and face my brother.”

“He might not be here.”

The faint note of hope in Lake’s voice was unmistakable.

“He will be.”