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computer work, and Kiki doing most of the footwork. In the seven years I had worked there, we had traced everything from criminal-level bail jumpers to absconding millionaires—but I never thought I’d be hunting down my own brother.
    Norman was fighting with the coffee machine when I appeared in the doorway, but when he saw my face he seemed to forget all about it and focused on me instead. Obviously, he could tell something was wrong.
    Fortunately, we were there by ourselves and could talk. I told him what had happened, glad at least that this time I was able to get through it without crying. He listened intently, asking questions when necessary, handing me a box of tissues when I was finished.
    “I’m all right,” I said, giving the box back.
    “I’m not,” he said, pulling out a tissue and blowing his nose. “Poor Kiki! She’s over in the hospital right now, when it just as easily could have been the morgue!”
    I let him pace and moan for a bit, grateful he was the kind of person who deeply, truly cared. While he recovered, I fixed the coffeemaker and started a pot going, and then I made a cup just the way he liked it, with lots of cream and two packets of sweetener. I needed to tell him that beyond dealing with the morning’s break-in, there was also the matter of a family emergency I needed to handle. As I gave him his coffee, he offered me the day off, saying he felt sure I needed it after such a traumatic morning. I replied I would appreciate that a lot, especially if I could stay here in the office for a while first and use the computer to handle a personal matter.
    “Whatever you need,” he said, taking a seat at his desk. “Just let me know if you want any help.”
    “Thanks, boss. Actually, I’d like to pick your brain for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
    Rolling a chair over to his desk, I told him the rest of the story, about my missing brother and everything Lydia had said. He listened intently, nodding once in a while and jotting down a few notes. He made me go through the attack again as well, but when I got to the part about what the intruder said, he stopped writing and looked up at me.
    “What kind of rubies?” he asked.
    “He pronounced it ‘bor-nays rubies.’ Does that mean anything to you? Have you ever heard that term before?”
    Norman shook his head, contemplating. “If he brought up your family tree like that, though, it must be something that was passed down through the generations.”
    “Yeah, but I don’t think he had the right family tree. He got my brother and father right, but then he named people I’ve never heard of. Peter? Jonas? Karl? I don’t know who these men are. He must have me confused with someone else.”
    “How far back have you traced your roots?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Ancestry, genealogy, all of that. Do you even know the names of your great-grandparents or your great-great-grandparents?”
    I shook my head, realizing he had a point. How could I be sure these names weren’t connected with me if I didn’t know anything beyond a few generations?
    “Have you spoken to your parents? They might be able to help,” Norman suggested.
    “My parents are on vacation right now. I wouldn’t even know how to reach them.”
    “Don’t they have cell phones?”
    I explained that the phones wouldn’t work where they were right now, that my parents were avid bird-watchers and were currently on a three-week hike across New Zealand, pursuing Yellow-Nosed Mollymawks and Wedge-Tailed Shearwaters.
    “Are they scientists?”
    “No,” I replied, adding that once my dad took early retirement, his favorite hobby of bird-watching had become an obsession. Ever the good sport, my mother indulged him as best she could, though when he announced his plans for this trip, she nearly beaned him with his own binoculars. “His idea won out, but next year he has to go with her to a scrapbooking convention.”
    “Well, then, talk to your eldest living relative, a