Then he found the number he was looking for, and he took out his ridiculous phone and eventually figured out how to make a call.

It was answered by a woman who told him the person he was looking for no longer lived there. She went off for a few minutes, eventually coming back with another number. He called that, and it was answered by a man who gave him the number of a retirement home. Virgil rang the home, gave them the name, and waited.

“Yeah?”

The voice on the other end sounded old, frail and ill-tempered.

“Javier?” said Virgil.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Virgil. Virgil Abernathy.”

There was a silence, and then,

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why? Why’re you calling? Why the hell’re you calling me? It’s been forty years and now you’re calling me and I want to know why, goddammit. If you’re calling to apologise, you’re about forty years too damn late.”

Virgil frowned. “Why would I be apologising?”

“You’re the one calling me!” Javier shouted. “You’re the one calling and now you have the, the, the nerve to ask why you’re calling? I’m the one asking why! I ask, you answer!”

“Javier, I really think we’re getting our wires crossed here …”

“Dementia, is it?” Javier said. “You know that you owe me an apology, but you can’t remember why, is that it? Y’know something? I’m glad. I’m glad your mind is leaving you. Couldn’t happen to a nicer fella.”

“My mind is fine, Javier, but to be honest you’re starting to irritate me here.”

Javier hooted down the phone. “Oh, is that right? Oh, is that right?”

“I just called to check on you,” said Virgil. “I’ve been thinking about the old days a lot and I saw someone last night who could have been your double from back then, someone who I would have sworn was you if I hadn’t known what age you were. I’m calling to ask if you have a son or a grandson and if they’re anywhere close to Desolation Hill.”

“I don’t know where that is,” said Javier, “but it sounds like just the place you deserve to be.”

“Do you have anyone in your family that looks just like you did forty years ago, or not?”

“No!” Javier yelled. “I don’t have any children, you dirty, lying, treacherous sonofabitch! I never had children and I never got married! The only woman in the world I ever loved looked at me like I was a joke and it was all your fault!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Darleen!”

Virgil frowned. “Who?”

“Darleen! Darleen Hickman!”

“I don’t know who that is.”