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After that it became a project. The whole diner had a job now and they treated it seriously. Patty texted her mother. Denny texted his uncle, “who’s older than God.” The booth of women produced, between them, a mother in a home over in Alder Hollow, an aunt in Florida, and somebody’s cousin who “did the historical society calendar.” Frank the Younger dictated a message to his grandkid at college, on the theory that the grandkid could “run it through the computer.”

“Run it through the computer?” Gordon asked.

“They can do that now. Search with a picture.”

“And what’s the computer going to find? He’s from here.”

“The computer knows things.”

Nate drank his second coffee and watched his phone make its way around the room like a collection plate. People he’d never introduced himself to were trying to help him. That was nice of them.

Still, Nate feared they were going to hand him a whole serving of nothing.

The answers came in gradually.

Bingo grandma: no, but ask Eileen. Eileen, thirty seconds later: no.

Denny’s uncle, older than God: never seen him. good looking fellow.

The mother in Alder Hollow didn’t have her phone. The aunt in Florida sent back a voice message the whole diner listened to, but the verdict was that she’d never met someone with hair quite like that.

The historical society cousin asked what year, and when the booth relayed maybe the seventies, sent three photographs of the town centennial parade for cross-reference. Fifty faces in hats. Nate looked at every one of them. He knew it was pointless while he was doing it, but not playing along would have been rude.

The grandkid at college texted back last. Frank the Younger read the message out loud, tilting the phone. “He says the computer found nothing.” A pause while he scrolled. “He says that’s weird. He says everything’s on there.”

“Told you,” Gordon said.

“He’s asking if it’s for the channel.”

“It’s not,” Nate said.

The diner absorbed this politely and did not believe him.

The phone came back to Nate hand over hand, table to table.

“Somebody’ll know him,” Patty said, topping off his cup without asking. “Small town. Somebody always knows.”

Nate nodded. He exchanged numbers with Gordon and both Franks in case anyone heard something later.

When he was done, he paid for his coffee and left a tip that was too big.

Outside, he got in the truck and sat with the phone in his hand, the painting glowing on the screen. A man nobody knew.

That was the news he had to report to Leo.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

Leo was waiting at the end of the drive.

Nate saw him before the truck made the turn, standing at the property line in the dark, right where the world ended for him.

Of course he’d been waiting.

This meant so much to him that he didn’t even bother trying to hide his anticipation. For Leo, that was huge.

Nate parked and sat for a second with the engine ticking. Then he braced himself and got out.