Her only visitors were Paul, whom she saw regularly, and the physical therapist who came to Pia’s home until she was well enough to drive over to the gym to work out on her own. Paul had been a godsend to Pia in many ways. He had even arranged to borrow his parents’ second car for Pia to use. The VW was destroyed, and Pia wasn’t in a position where she could ask Nano for a replacement.

The second major motivation in Pia’s restricted life to get her out of bed in the morning was Berman. Whenever she was lying there, reluctant to get up, as she was that morning, she thought of him. When her broken arm ached, as it did at that moment, or her ribs hurt, or her splenectomy incision burned, she pictured Berman. Pia wanted answers from him, answers to her original questions about Nano and, more pressing to her, answers about the car accident.

Paul confirmed to Pia that in her feverish near-waking state, she had seen Zach Berman in her hospital room. It was awkward, Paul admitted, but Berman had tried to give off the air of a concerned boss coming to visit a colleague. Paul hadn’t bought it. He actually told her what he had really thought, namely that Berman was a predator and that she should stay the hell away from him.

“You mean a sexual predator?” Pia had asked.

“Of course a sexual predator.”

“What made you think that, not that I don’t believe you?” In her mind’s eye Pia could see Berman trying to force his way into her apartment.

“His attitude and his person,” Paul said with a shake of his head. “It’s too bad, because he’s a nice-looking guy.”

As Paul Caldwell suspected, Pia was totally convinced that their accident had not in fact been accidental, even though she had total traumatic amnesia about the event. What swayed her was that she knew herself: there was no way under the sun that she would simply drive off the road. In her mind, the only explanation was that the VW had been run off the road, and Pia wondered how the authorities could even suggest otherwise.