Of most interest to me was a series of sketches of a man’s face. He had dark hair that grew almost to his collar and fell over his forehead in unkempt bangs. There were at least thirty versions of the face, some seemingly dating to Sonia’s adolescence, when the sketches were more immature.

I laid them out on the floor. When Peppy came over to inspect, I asked her opinion. “This is undoubtedly Matt Chastain, the clumsiest SOB who ever set foot in Nathan Kiel’s lab. Which are the two best, do you think? Shall we launch them into the ether?”

Peppy wagged her tail, knocking one of the newer sketches askew. I took that one, and one of Sonia’s juvenile efforts that held the clearest depiction of Chastain’s eyes and mouth. I photographed them. Even if my computer was vulnerable to Baggetto or Gisborne, I wanted to get those pictures in circulation. I posted them on Imgur, created a subreddit for Matt Chastain, put them on Facebook. “Matt Chastain, graduate student at the University of Kansas in the 1980s, missing since 1983. Do you know him? Do you know his family? Please contact V.I. Warshawski.” I added my e-mail address, my cell number, and my Facebook and Twitter pages. There didn’t seem much else to do tonight but go to bed.

I’d been in Lawrence less than a week, and I’d been hauled out of bed almost every night, but Sunday the natives seemed less restless and allowed me the sleep of the blessed. I didn’t wake until nine, when Peppy licked my face, demanding to be let out. Bernie was still asleep, but she stirred when I opened the door for Peppy.

“You got it, girl. We’re rested, we’re awake, aware, alive, we’re going to crack this case wide open today.”

Several people had posted on my Facebook page, suggesting Matt Chastains that they knew in different parts of the country. When I dug up their details, two of them seemed to be about the right age. I sent them e-mails, then did my full workout, which I hadn’t had time for in the last few mornings. Once I’d showered, Bernie was awake and fully ready to play detective.

I told her to take the dog for a run while I drove to the market for kefir and fruit. I also made phone calls, including to the hospital, where Sonia continued to breathe on her own in her medical coma.

When Bernie came back, she said she’d ride downtown with me, but she didn’t want to watch me answer e-mails at the Hippo; she’d explore the town on her own.

I looked at her narrowly but couldn’t imagine what mischief she could get up to in broad daylight without a car. I agreed to drop her at the Hippo and told her to stay in touch.