On a damp Saturday, just last year, the Sixties finally died in Berkeley. On Sunday, I came for the bones.
Deputy Coroner Clay Edison has his hands full. He’s got a new baby who won’t sleep. He’s working the graveyard shift. And he’s trying, for once, to mind his own business. Then comes the call. Workers demolishing a local park have made a haunting discovery: the decades-old skeleton of a child. But whose? And how did it get there? No sooner has Clay begun to investigate than he receives a second call–this one from a local businessman, wondering if the body could belong to his sister. She went missing fifty years ago, the man says. Or at least I think she did. Clay doesn’t understand. What’s that mean, you ‘think’ she disappeared? It’s a little complicated. That it is. And things only get stranger from there. Clay’s relentless search for answers will unearth a history of violence and secrets, revolution, and betrayal. Because in this town, the past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past. It’s very much alive. And it can kill.