She wouldn’t have looked up at all, wouldn’t even have noticed the man, but for the noise his shoes made clicking across the tiles. That in itself was unusual because nobody bothered with footwear here except the hotel staff—and they all wore huaraches that barely whispered as they went silently about their tasks. She glanced up and saw the man coming toward her, a Mexican in his forties, dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt, pressed trousers and gleaming black boots, the pointed toes of which were decorated with silver chevrons that caught and released the light in a strangely hypnotic way. He stopped beside her chair and presented her with a wide ingratiating smile. “Buenos días, señora,” he said, and without waiting for her to return the greeting, which she would have liked to do because she was trying to practice her Spanish as much as possible, he asked, “You are Mrs. Doctor Leary?”

She was so surprised by this she let out a laugh. She married to Tim? “Me? No, no: Tim isn’t married. Dr. Leary, I mean. He’s a widower.”

The man gave her a puzzled look.

“His wife is dead,” she said.

Still nothing.

“He has no wife,” she said, carefully enunciating each word.

The man’s smile returned. “I see,” he said. “Muy triste, no? But”—he gestured to the chair beside hers—“do you mind?”

Before she could answer, he’d swiveled the chair neatly around so that it was facing her and lowered himself into it. “Excuse me,” he murmured, “but I am Dr. Dionisio Padilla, of the Psychological Institute? A colleague of Dr. Leary? And you are—?”

“I’m”—she hesitated. What was she: a student, a friend, a fellow seeker? “One of his, that is, my husband is one of his grad students?”

“I see,” he said. He was sitting too close to her, so close their knees were practically touching. “And your name?”

She gave it without hesitation, though she was beginning to feel uncomfortable and she couldn’t have said why. The man seemed innocuous enough. A fellow psychologist. A colleague. But he didn’t know Tim, that was obvious.

“And so,” he said, smiling still and holding her with his eyes, “your husband is participating in Dr. Leary’s sessions, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“Yes, me too.”

He was silent a moment. Pedro began rustling on his perch and let out a single shrill “Caramba!” before hopping down and strutting across the patio in his bow-legged gait.

“Tell me,” the man said, “because this is of great interest—do you all, the whole class, that is, take the drug at once?”