When Giancarlo had collected his belongings from the backseat of the car and his luggage from the trunk, he paid the driver and sent him on his way back to Rome. Then he turned back to Carter and gave him a questioning nod.

“So, tell me what you know,” he said. “Has there been any news about my brother?”

“No,” said Carter, shaking his head. “They’ve found nothing so far. Not a clue.”

Giancarlo turned his gaze to the mountain, and let out a sigh.

“That means he is still up there somewhere,” he said.

Giancarlo looked back at Carter and then all around at the empty piazza.Things were curiously quiet, even for Castelalto.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

Carter gave a shrug.

“Most of the men are up on the mountain,” he said. “The kids are in school, and I guess everybody else is in their houses.”

“And where is my brother’s wife?” said Giancarlo.

“At home,” Carter told him. “She’s been waiting for you.”

“In that case,” said Giancarlo, taking hold of his suitcase, “let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

As the two marched through the village toward the house, Giancarlo gazed straight ahead, ignoring the stares of the old men and women sitting by their doorways. He knew that, despite being away for so long, some of them still recognized him, and he was not surprised to hear someone whisper, “Is that Giancarlo, come back after all these years?” as he passed.

When they came to the house, Giancarlo stopped, and regarded the front door. To his eyes, at least on the exterior, very little of his boyhood home had changed. He knew full well, however, that behind the door he would find things much different. It was another in a string of strange moments for him, for he realized then that he was not sure whether he should knock before entering the house or not. He stood there, debating what to do, until Carter stepped in front of him and opened the door without hesitation. Giancarlo took a deep breath and followed him inside.

Antonella was alone in the living room, sitting by the telephone, when Carter and Giancarlo walked into the room. At seeing them come in, she immediately stood and folded her arms, striking a pose that was equal parts defiance and supplication. Antonella looked weary, like a soldier who had been at the front for too long. Her face was drawn, and the dark circles under her eyes bespoke the anxious, sleepless nights. Despite it all, she was still beautiful.

“Carter,” she said in a terse voice, “I would like to talk to my brother-in-law in private. Would you mind leaving us alone, just for a few moments?”

“Of course,” said Carter. With that he turned and walked out at once.