Rumpled and baggy, he shuffled through the doorway of the Wiz’s cramped office and gave a brief wave of his hand. “Got any coffee, Simon?”

Simon Lawrence was immersed in paperwork, but he gestured wordlessly toward a chair stacked with books, then picked up the phone to call out to the front desk to fill Wren’s order and one of his own.

Wren cleared the chair he had been offered and sat down heavily. “I watched you perform for the assembled last night with something approaching awe. Meeting all those people, shaking hands, answering questions, offering prognostications, being pleasant. To tell you the truth, I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t possibly keep up the kind of pace you do and stay sane.”

“Well, I don’t do it every night, Andrew.” Simon stretched and leaned back in his chair. He gave Wren a suspicious look. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what brings you by this time?”

Wren managed to look put upon. “I wanted to see how you were, for one thing. No more episodes, I hope?”

The other man spread his hands. “I still don’t know what happened. One moment I was standing there on the stairs, talking with Carole and those workers from Union Gospel, and the next I was down on the floor. I just seemed to lose all my strength. I’m scheduled to see a doctor about it this afternoon, but I don’t think it’s anything more than stress and a lack of sleep.”

Wren nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I also wanted to congratulate you on last night. It was a huge success, as you know. The gift of the land from the city, the offer of additional funding, the pledges of support from virtually every quarter. You should be very pleased about that.”

Simon Lawrence sighed, arching one eyebrow. “About that, yes, I’m very pleased. It helps take the edge off a few of the less pleasant aspects of the day’s events.”

“Hmmm,” Wren murmured solemnly. “Speaking of which, have you seen her today?”

Simon didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. “No, and I don’t think I’m going to. Not today or any other. I went by her apartment early this morning, thinking I might surprise her with the news, but she was gone. Her clothes, luggage, personal effects, everything. The door to the apartment was wide open, so I had no trouble getting in. At first I thought something might have happened to her. A chair had been thrown through the living room window. It was lying down in the park with pieces of glass all over the place. But nothing else in the apartment seemed disturbed. There was no sign of any kind of violence having occurred. I called the police anyway.”

Wren studied him thoughtfully. “Do you think she suspected we were onto her?”

Simon shook his head. “I don’t see how. You and I were the only ones who knew the lab results—and I didn’t know until after the dedication, when you told me.” He paused, reflecting. “I tell you, Andrew, I’d never have guessed it was her. Not in a million years. Stefanie Winslow. I still can’t believe it.”