The website asked her to provide much more information on Bonnie than Leah had to give. Red error messages kept popping up, asking her to fill in more fields. She typed unknown into several of the fields, then submitted the request. Perhaps VitalCertificate’s search engines would be able to piece together a result from very little.

She had more information on Ian, thanks to the details included in the intellectual property suit. Thus, even though he’d only be in his late fifties now, she completed a second records request for him.

Your request is processing, the site informed her.

Seven days ago Sebastian had gone to church with Leah. Today he was attending a worship service again, sitting alone on a folding chair at the back of a small auditorium.

Then, the church had been formal. Now a smaller, more casual congregation surrounded him.

Then, between holding Leah’s hand, breathing in the scent of her body wash, and studying the appearance of the Brooksides, he’d paid almost zero attention to the service. Now he was paying close attention to the pastor.

Then, he’d felt as content as he’d ever felt. Now he was as far from content as it was possible to feel.

He went to church with the Colemans from time to time in Misty River. But he usually spent his Atlanta Sundays reading medical journals, exercising, running errands, or checking on his patients.

He’d come here today because of his itching, scratching discontent. Obviously, he couldn’t go on like this. He was sick of the slideshow of scenes—from the ruined building in El Salvador and his foster care years—that kept running through his mind.

He’d hoped for a sermon on a topic like God’s grace or love. Instead, the sermon centered on identity. It was as if the pastor, who was wearing a blazer with jeans, had written it just for him.

It wasn’t comforting him. It was confronting him.

He’d wanted to slip in and slip out without talking to anyone. But Ellie, the nurse at work who’d told him about this place, had spotted him almost as soon as he’d arrived, and rushed over. She and her friend had taken chairs to his right. Ellie had been shooting glances at him the whole service, which was annoying him almost as much as the sermon.

Ellie had made it clear to everyone they worked with that she was into him. She was a stunning girl—lots of shiny dark brown hair. Green eyes. But she was much too young and much too enthusiastic for him. She made him feel twenty years older than he was, and nothing about her personality or body or bright lipstick attracted him.

Ellie wasn’t a math genius. Ellie wasn’t too independent for her own good. She didn’t make his five senses light up like a pinball machine.