“No.” He averted his eyes and began to ice his hand again. “But she knew him…the maharaja’s son…who is actually an old guy, like in his fifties.”

Decker smiled. “Go on.”

Gabe sighed. “I took lessons in the city, so I was in Manhattan a lot. I used to take the bus in from my house, and after my lessons, I’d walk over to the hospital and my mom would drive us home. One time, this was about a year ago, I finished early—which never happens. My ex-teacher was a slave driver, but he wasn’t feeling well. Anyway, I walked over to the hospital and I saw my mom talking to this guy who looked like a little like Zubin Mehta—graying hair, well dressed, dignified.”

“Okay,” Decker wrote. “Did they look like they knew each other well?”

“Like they weren’t touching or anything, but they were talking…a lot. And she was smiling—my mom. Then he got paged and that was that. Then my mom saw me and we went home. I did ask her who she was talking to. She said that he was the cardiac-surgeon son of the maharaja who had all the bodyguards.”

When Gabe didn’t elaborate, Decker said, “Did she seem embarrassed to be talking to him in front of you?”

“No,” Gabe said. “She was very matter-of-fact. But I remember it because it was rare to see her comfortable around a man. She usually avoided men even when my dad wasn’t around.”

“So she didn’t seem flustered?”

“No.” Gabe collected his thoughts. “Lots of times we’d do stuff and not tell my dad. Go out to movies or to restaurants when he stayed in the city. Once I went to a Christmas party with her. If she wanted it kept private, she’d say to keep it between us. She didn’t say that. So I forgot about it.”

“Did you ever see the surgeon with your mom again?”

“No.” He looked at Decker. “If I’d seen her with him again, that would have been weird. So you’re thinking that the surgeon is the Indian guy who owned the car?”

“Gabe, I have no idea. But I’d like to find out the surgeon’s name.”

“So if it is the same guy…like do you think like he kidnapped her or…”

“I don’t know.” Not even entertaining the notion that she might have taken off with him. Decker paused. “Maybe we should have someone look at your hand.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just in case.” Gabe was quiet. Decker said, “Look, son, I’m going to level with you. I know that you saw your dad. You don’t want to be holding material evidence that could implicate your father in your mom’s disappearance. You’re nothing like Christopher Donatti. Don’t go down for him.”