Elizaveta gave her an awkward hug.

I didn’t want to offer up some platitude, so I said, “Speaking of María, did you ever hear what happened to her?”

Rosa nodded. “I’ve seen her a few times.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Yeah, she’s in an institution. To tell you the truth, it’s pretty damn depressing. Just the condition of the place, how the staff treat the patients. Some of them don’t have shoes. And there was this one old woman I saw tied up in her wheelchair.”

“Did she recognize you?”

“María?” Rosa shook her head. “I told her who I was, but she was completely out of it, all drugged up. She was just sitting in the common room with her doll—that same one she had on the island. I feel really bad for her. She doesn’t have any family, no one to visit her.”

“Poor woman,” Elizaveta said. “I mean, what a terrible life. You know, I used to think my life in Russia was bad, but I guess there’s always someone who has it worse off than you do.”

“What about the island?” I asked. “You haven’t by chance gone back to it?”

“Are you kidding?” Rosa said. “It’s a freaking tourist trap now.”

“What!”

“Don’t you ever go on the internet, Jack?”

“Sure, but I’ve never…wanted to…I don’t really google ‘Island of the Dolls.’”

“Well, you should, you’ll see what I mean. It’s a tourist trap. Especially with foreigners. The legend is still the same: it’s haunted by a ghost of a girl who died there fifty years ago. The locals want to keep it that way. A ghost brings more tourist bucks than a disabled woman wearing a doll face. By the way, you know it was Solano who made up the entire legend? Yeah, to keep people away from the island, and to explain María’s presence if she was ever spotted.” She glanced at her silver wristwatch. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you guys. I just wanted to say hi—and thank you for saving my life and everything. But we should definitely stay in touch. Next time you race in California, Jack, I’m going to be there, cheering you on.”

“Let me know which race. I’ll leave you tickets.”

“For my girlfriends too? They think you’re super sexy.”

I raised my eyebrows at Elizaveta as she rolled her eyes.

We all stood, and I said, “Where are you heading, Rosa?”

“Back to my dorm on The Hill—the northwest edge of campus.”

“We’ll give you a lift.”

“You sure—?”

“Positive. All we have planned for today is a big fiberglass chicken.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

We left the Starbucks together and walked the half block to where my midnight-black ’79 Monte Carlo was parked alongside the curb.