It was edging toward late afternoon by the time Carter freshened up and changed into more presentable clothes than those he had worn on the train. Ordinarily, he would have stretched out on the bed for a nap, as had become his habit, but he was far too excited at finding himself at long last in Roccasale. He was anxious to get out the door and search for Elena, but it occurred to him just then that he hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin. If only he had known a little more about her, even just her last name, it would have been a simple matter of finding her address in the telephone book. His mind was suddenly filled with a thousand nagging, dismaying questions he had never bothered to ask himself those many weeks ago when he first made up his mind to come to Italy. Looking back, he realized that this whole journey had been a leap of faith. He had no idea how many people lived in and around Roccasale, but from the little he had seen of the town, he was certain it numbered well into the thousands. Where was he to start, and how would he ever find out where she lived? Go door to door, knocking like a fool? They would probably call the police on him and have him escorted out of town. And what if she didn’t actually live in Roccasale itself, but somewhere outside of town, in one of the frazioni Giancarlo had told him about? Who knew how many such places there might be?

Carter sat on the edge of the bed, the questions swirling around his head like a swarm of angry bees, till at last he could stand them no more. With a wave of his hand, he shooed them all away. Of what help were those doubting voices now? No matter what happened, he told himself, he was not going to find Elena by sitting in his hotel room fretting away the rest of the day. He needed to get outside into the open air. Then he would decide what to do next.