“Do you have any idea how I could contact-”

“Sorry. I haven’t heard from him in years.” He held out his hand, indicating their meeting was over. “Tell Lieutenant Torres I said hello.”

Reed shook his hand. “I will. And if you think of anything pertinent-”

“I’ll call.” Beulle showed him back to the door he had entered through. “I hope you can prove the remains are Dylan Sommer’s, so that family gets closure.”

Monday, March 8

Noon

Alex knew of the El Dorado Kitchen. Located in the El Dorado Hotel on Sonoma’s town square and helmed by up-and-coming chef Justin Everett, it was consistently named by critics and foodies as one of the places to eat in wine country.

Rachel had already arrived and was waiting for her at a table in the courtyard. She looked like a million bucks in her earth-toned brocade blazer and Alex wished she tried a little harder than her jeans and denim jacket.

The waiter was at the table, opening a bottle of wine. Alex raised her eyebrows. Apparently, people here drank wine with every meal, no matter the day of the week.

A moment later, Alex reached the table. Rachel smiled brilliantly up at her. “You did remember! I was worried you wouldn’t.”

The waiter held out the chair for her. Alex returned the smile and sat. “You’re not the only one. I half thought the wine had prompted the invitation, which you had then immediately forgotten you made.”

Rachel laughed. “I never let the wine talk for me. And I never forget.” She waved the waiter off and poured them both a glass of wine. “It’s a Russian River Pinot.”

Alex tasted. “Mmm, yummy. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I’m so glad you agreed to have lunch.” The waiter delivered a basket of bread and Rachel dug in.

“How was your morning?” she asked, spreading herb aïoli on the sourdough bread. “Did you explore a bit? Hunt down some of your mother’s old friends?”

“Much less exciting, I’m afraid. I spent the morning working on my doctoral dissertation.”

Rachel looked utterly disappointed and Alex laughed. “Don’t worry, I plan on striking out this afternoon. But no caves. Maybe never again.”

“I’m so sorry that happened. How’re you feeling today?”

“Frankly, embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We’re used to drama around here. Goes with the wine.”

“I don’t know how I got so turned around. My sense of direction is usually pretty good. And I know what I heard. There were people partying in there.”

“That’s what really worried Joe and Ferris. They’ve had problems before. Kids smoking pot, stuff like that. It’s a huge liability. Like I said, those caves creep me out, too. You should see the caves at our winer-” She bit the words back and shook her head. “I keep forgetting, you have seen the Sommer caves.”

“But I don’t remember, so it’s sort of like I haven’t.”

“I find this whole amnesia thing of yours fascinating and weird.” Rachel broke off a piece of her bread and popped it in her mouth.

Alex could have been offended. But she found Rachel’s honesty refreshing. She laughed. “Want the truth? I find it really weird myself. Not so fascinating.”

“You don’t remember any of this?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

The waiter arrived with food. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered several of my favorites apps for you to try. Fried egg pizza, fennel sausage and Fourme d’Ambert.”

“Not at all. It looks wonderful.” Alex helped herself to a little of each. “Why should I see the Sommer caves?” she asked. “How are they different?”

Rachel leaned forward. “The Reed caves are modern, ours are original. Dad likes to say Francis Reed had a case of extreme cave envy, so he had theirs dug.”

“But isn’t a cave a cave?” Alex gave in and broke off a piece of sourdough bread. “How are they different?”

“Try as different as a Disney jungle and a real one.” Rachel selected a portion of the pizza, then went on. “The first caves, like ours and the Schramsberg caves, were dug by hand in the late 1800s. They’re living caves, complete with mossy lichen hanging from the ceilings. They can be… atmospheric. If you can screw up your courage, I’ll give you a tour sometime.”

Alex shuddered. “No thanks.”

Rachel smiled. “To give you an idea, we have forty thousand square feet of caves and Schramsberg has fifty. Red Crest, where you got lost last night, is only fifteen-Don’t look now, there’s Joe and Ferris. Oh shit, they saw us.”

Alex turned. Sure enough, Reed’s brothers were heading toward their table. The same as the other night, she was struck with how different in looks the three Reed brothers were.

Rachel stood. “Joe,” she said warmly, offering her cheek for a kiss from them both. “Ferris. You remember Alex.”

How could they forget? Alex stood and greeted the men. “I’m so embarrassed about Saturday night. I’m usually not so excitable.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ferris said, smiling.

“It’s understandable,” Joe murmured. “Ferris told me you thought you heard voices?”

“Yes, but I-”

“She and I were just talking about that. Wondering if being lost in there might have jogged a childhood memory.”

Alex looked at Rachel in surprise. The woman winked at her, then turned back to the two men. “Seems I even remember something like that happening to you, Ferris. How old were you? Six? Seven?”

“Six.” He looked at his older brother. “A joke perpetrated by Joe and Clark.”

“And their group of evil henchmen.”

“Reed swooped in to save the day,” Joe drawled, though his playful words didn’t match his expression. “Already playing hero. We’ll let you get back to your lunch.”

When the two had gone to their table, Rachel leaned toward her. “Daddy’s boys, the both of them, I can’t stand either of them, though I find Mr. CEO Joe particularly loathsome. At least Ferris can laugh at himself once in a while.”

Alex was shocked. Rachel must have been able to tell, because her lips lifted in a self-mocking smile. “How’s that for honesty? Clark’s the same way. They’re their fathers’ puppets.”

Rachel pushed away her plate and reached for her wineglass. “I have a lot of respect for Reed. Walking away like he did.”

“What about you? You didn’t walk away.”

“I couldn’t.” She smiled. “Cut me open and I bleed cabernet sauvignon.”

Alex laughed. “So you love the work, but they don’t?”

“They covet it, there’s a difference.” She drained her glass and poured another. “Clark and Will both strut around like a couple of peacocks. Sommer Wines are the plumage. They can strut all they want, but I’m an equal shareholder. And you know what? Without me, those feathers aren’t nearly so fine.”

Rancor for her cousins was obvious. Alex supposed this was what Reed had been talking about.

Rachel motioned with her glass and the garnet-hued liquid dipped and swayed. “Until Dylan disappeared, Dad ran Sommer Wines, not Treven.” She leaned closer and motioned Alex to do the same. “But Dad was Grandpa’s favorite. So he put him in charge.”

She stopped, then shook her head. “His favorite, that sounded awful, didn’t it? I should say, Grandpa recognized Dad’s gifts. And he and Grandpa had the same vision of how to move the company forward.”

“And Treven’s differed from theirs?”

“Oh yes, world wine domination, bottle by cheap bottle.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Expansion and profits, by whatever means necessary.” Rachel started to say something else, then caught her breath. “Oh my God. That was your mother’s ring, wasn’t it?”

“You remember the ring. Any idea what BOV stands for?” Alex slipped the ring off and handed it to Rachel. “The inscription. I’m curious.”

She studied it. “No clue. You know who you could ask? There’s a jewelry store on the square, the Golden Bow. They specialize in wine country designs, they might know something.”