Dalgreen came back from the Moon to die, and there was only the art he knew worth living for. But then he found Di Costa, who painted as no human could ... and whose secret was too great for any man to know.
“Mr. Di Costa is one of our most brilliant young painters, yes, indeed,” the curator said smugly, as if he had personally taught Costa every painting trick he knew. “He has only lived in New York a short while, but the boy has made quite a name for himself already. Here, let me give you his address, I’m sure you would enjoy meeting him. Common interests, you know.”
Brent was easily talked into accepting the information he had come for in the first place. He kept his real thoughts secret from the vociferous Kinnent. They would seem more than foolish—unsupported as they were by a single shred of real evidence. He couldn’t let this deter him. The sands of his life were trickling out, but there was something he had to do first.
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