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the man’s voice made her turn back toward him.
    “It was all there was in the kitchen—Fig Newtons,” he said. “My granddaughter, she didn’t know how to take care of him right. He was alone and living on cookies and water when I got there.”
    His voice had gone soft and distant. “The drugs destroyed her brain. It was like she wasn’t even there anymore. So I had to go down there and take the boy and now we’re just trying to disappear.” He paused. “There was no choice, you see. I had to give him a new life. I just hope he don’t remember much of the old one.”
    His eyes were liquid in the dim light. He carefully wrapped up the cookies and stowed them away. Then he reached up and turned out the overhead light.
    “’Night, miss,” he whispered.
    Amelia settled down into the seat and leaned her head against the window. The glass felt cool on her cheek, and the whirring of the bus’s tires was lulling. She closed her eyes, almost drifting off into sleep until she realized she was still holding the Fig Newton.
    The cookie was soft and sticky in her hand. Slowly, she brought it to her lips and took a bite.
    It started on her tongue, a rush of sensation—soft crumbling crust, molasses-sweet fruit, and the soft grit of the seeds—and it flooded through her whole body. And with it came a memory so sharp her heart ached.
    A warm kitchen on a snowy day. Green wallpaper with weeping willows. A cat curling around her ankles. A plate of Fig Newtons and a glass of milk. The touch of a mother’s hand on her hair. Her mother’s hand . . .
    She still couldn’t see her mother’s face. But she was filled with a rush of soft sadness that felt like it was coming from the very walls of the kitchen, from those willow trees.
    I know this is very frightening for you, but you will get better. Your memory has been temporarily erased. But it will come back.
    She wanted to believe that, wanted to believe what the doctor had told her. She took another bite of the cookie and waited for another memory.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Alex jumped to his feet. The police were back, two officers in black uniforms coming toward him. He had been sitting here in the open area by the elevators, waiting for the cops to return, waiting for two hours while they looked for Mel.
    There was a third man with them, a fat guy in a security guard uniform. The faces of the cops were neutral, but the security guard looked upset.
    “Did you find her?” Alex asked.
    “No, sir,” the short cop said.
    “No? What do you mean no?”
    “I mean that there seems to be no sign of your wife, Mr. Tobias.”
    Alex’s eyes flicked from the short cop to the tall one and finally to the security guard. The first thing the nurse had done when she realized Mel was missing was to call hospital security. It’s common for patients to wander off, she had told Alex, and your wife couldn’t have gotten very far.
    But he had been in a big county hospital before. Ten years ago, he had spent a week in a Houston hospital waiting for his mother to die, and during those awful days he had paced the corridors for hours, so he knew that Broward General, spread over four city blocks, was a sprawling labyrinth of tunnels, twisting hallways, and dark rooms where a person could get lost.
    “Have you looked everywhere?” he asked the guard.
    “I’ve had four men looking ever since the call came in,” the guard said.
    “What about outside? Have you searched the neighborhood?”
    The short cop turned to the security guard. “Mr. Bennett, could you give us a moment with Mr. Tobias here?”
    “No problem. I’ve got to check in with my men.” He started down the hallway, pulling a radio from his belt.
    “Sit down, please, Mr. Tobias,” the short cop said.
    Alex looked at the cop’s name tag— S PECK —and dropped down onto the chair. Speck perched on the edge of the other chair; the second officer stood over him, holding a small notebook and pen.
    “What about the guy who brought