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this long without telling him about the Japanese man, I could go a little longer. “Don’t want to keep the dentist waiting.”
    He didn’t look like he believed me, but I didn’t give him time to argue, just hurried back inside. I was itching to hear what they were saying, but Mama had already hung up (though the cord hadn’t stopped swinging).
    â€œWho was that?” I asked.
    â€œIt was Miss Kendall,” Mama said, “Dr. Franks’s secretary. She said they want us to come back.”
    I sneered. “Of course they do.”
    Mama’s fingers curled around the counter. “I told her we would.”
    â€œBut why?” I asked, dumbfounded.
    â€œShe said they’ve had some sort of breakthrough.” Mama drew a shaky breath. “Not that she would tell me what the breakthrough
was,
but she made it sound like they found Robby.”

6
    We picked up Auntie Mildred first thing Saturday morning. She was waiting for us on her porch, clutching her purse like a life preserver. The rain dripping from the eaves softened her rough edges.
    â€œThis is it,” she said as she climbed into our Studebaker. “I can feel it.”
    I didn’t bother to point out that she’d probably thought the same thing last week.
    It took longer than it should have to reach the old highway. The rain turned the landscape gray and drizzly, reducing the San Bernardinos to distant blobs and muffling all but the hypnotic swishing of our tires on the wet road. Mama hated driving slow, but she must have hated the thought of wrecking Daddy’s Studebaker even more. When we pulled into the parking lot of Ingolstadt Laboratories, we were fifteen minutes late.
    Auntie Mildred didn’t wait for Mama to turn off the engine, just jumped out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop (or maybe slightly before). When I didn’t go as fast as she wanted me to, Auntie Mildred grabbed my wrist and towed me into the lobby. Her gloves felt slick, like sweaty hands.
    The secretary beamed at our approach. “What can I do for you?” she asked as we scurried across the shiny tiles. She wasn’t the same secretary who’d been here the week before.
    Auntie Mildred licked her lips. “We’re here to talk to Dr. Franks.”
    The secretary consulted her appointment book. “Oh, you must be Mrs. Higbee.”
    â€œActually, I’m Mrs. Clausen.”
    â€œOh, yes, Mrs. Clausen. I have your name right here.” The secretary bit her lip. “Now, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I’m going to need to see ID.”
    Mama produced her driver’s license while Auntie Mildred fumbled for her water bill. I caught a glimpse of the postmark as she passed it to the secretary, but neither of them seemed to notice it was more than a month old. I kept that tidbit to myself. If Auntie Mildred’s ID was no good, they might not let us past the guards, and I might never solve the mystery of the Japanese man.
    We only made it past four checkpoints before Dr. Franks appeared. His lab coat looked as if he’d slept in it, but he was grinning like an idiot. I definitely wouldn’t be grinning if I had to try to sleep in this awful, freezing place.
    â€œMrs. Higbee,” he said, “you came!”
    Mama’s eyes narrowed. “Did you think we wouldn’t?”
    Dr. Franks lowered his gaze. “I suppose I had my doubts. But I do think you’ll appreciate what we’ve accomplished.” He directed us into a nearby elevator. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”
    Auntie Mildred hurried aboard, eager to meet the breakthrough, but I lingered on the threshold, suddenly nervous. Something about the way that he’d lowered his eyes had made my stomach clench. What if this so-called accomplishment had nothing to do with Robby? What if we’d come all this way so Dr. Franks could show us his earwax collection?
    The door tried