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concentration. Her head was pounding. Her eyes slowly focused. She was lying on the cold kitchen floor, staring up at the popcorn ceiling.
    Hector had left a sticky mess between her legs. He rolled onto his back, closed his eyes and sighed. He was gone. So gone, she was afraid to ask any questions. Like when can we do that again? And how long do I have to wait between times? Because she just had to go back there and make sure Jayla was okay. She had to find her daughter. She sat up and felt a wetness between her legs. She felt sore down there.
    She glanced over at Hector, who said nothing. His eyes were closed. Maybe he was sleeping. She sat there trying not to hate him. She tried to be grateful. Now, at last, she knew. She knew where her daughter was and who had kidnapped her. Thank God. Thank God, she had found her at last.
    *
    Tobias Mandelbaum was enjoying a perfectly good cup of espresso in a café, when he felt an unexpected urge to return home. But he couldn’t do that. Not now. Sophie had made a mess of his plans.
    He looked around at the other tables and saw a red-faced girl chatting softly with someone on her phone, and three old men talking quietly among themselves. He saw a polite young man reading a book and two middle-aged, beaky women taking in the scenery. None of these people gave him a second glance. He felt isolated and alone.
    He would have to go see Delilah.
    She was the only person he could trust.
    Time rolled ceaselessly forward, memories eroded rapidly, and almost everyone who could connect him to the past was gone. Now all the kids had smart-phones and wanted to be rock stars instead of teachers, and things weren’t the same anymore. This wasn’t his old neighborhood anymore. The oldest generation had died off and the newer generations had moved away. His friends and colleagues had either died or moved on to other things.
    Mandelbaum didn’t know what to do. He had thought so much about his wife and children that his mind was playing tricks on him. Sometimes he couldn’t picture Estelle’s face or hear her voice, and it killed him that she could be so far away. His memories had been replaced by recycled memories. He was forced to look at old snapshots if he wanted to see her rosy cheeks and adorable lips.
    Leave. You don’t belong here anymore.
    He sipped his coffee and stared at the sparkling ocean as if he might find the answers there. One more task, and then he would leave Florida. For now.
    *
    Mandelbaum was expert at many things. He was sly. He was crafty. He could slip easily in and out of a place undetected. He knew how to pick a lock. He knew how to become invisible. It was all a matter of adjustment. You put on a hat. You changed your posture. You parted your hair on the other side.
    He drove up the coast of Florida, where the roads were narrow and winding, and stopped in a small town called Logan, just outside of Jacksonville. The sun had set an hour ago. He parked on the street, high enough on the hillside so he had a good view of the house.
    It was getting dark. The warm winds were picking up. Mandelbaum waited until John Driscoll’s Jeep pulled into the driveway and parked, its taillights winking out.
    He waited until Driscoll had gone inside, and then he got out of his car and walked toward the house. He could smell sage and rosemary on the wind. He stood on an incline bordered by bougainvillea and watched the house lights blink on in an erratic pattern. He caught sight of Driscoll’s shadow in an upstairs room. He studied the modest stucco home surrounded by lemon trees. The concrete patio was cracked, and there was some hillside erosion. Driscoll came out onto a second-story balcony, and Mandelbaum ducked behind the bougainvillea, while Driscoll stood gazing at the stars and the moon.
    Five minutes later, he was back downstairs, wearing shorts and a bright orange T-shirt. He went into the living room and turned on the TV. Next he wandered into the kitchen and stood gazing into