“Pleased to meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Duckworth grinned and tipped his head toward his son. “Whatever he told you, you should take it with a grain of salt.”

“Is everything okay?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” Duckworth said. “Just needed to talk to you.”

“I’ll be on my way,” Carol said, reaching for her purse and putting the lid back onto her latte.

“No, please,” Duckworth said quickly. “I’d like you to stay.”

“I don’t want to intrude, and I do have some things I have—”

“No, this may actually involve you.”

Carol’s eyes flashed. “I’m sorry?”

“Dad, what’s this about?”

“Can we grab another chair?” Duckworth said. Trevor went to the closest table, where a woman was sitting alone. He stole the chair across from her and brought it over to their table. Duckworth took a seat.

“You want something?” Carol asked. “A cappuccino maybe?”

“No, no, that’s okay. And if I go up to the counter, I won’t be able to stop myself from getting a slice of that lemon cake, with the icing.” He felt his mouth starting to water. “The slices aren’t all that big, are they? How many calories could they be?”

“Dad,” Trevor said. He said to Carol, “Dad’s been trying to lose some weight.”

“What do you mean, trying? I have lost some weight.”

Carol smiled. “Congrats. It’s never easy.”

“Tell me about it,” Duckworth said. “Okay, so . . .” He extended his arms and placed his palms flat on the small table. “I have to admit, this is slightly awkward. This sort of thing hasn’t happened before.”

“What sort of thing?” his son asked.

“I’ll start at the beginning,” Duckworth said. He told them about the police picking up Brian Gaffney, bringing him into the station. How Gaffney couldn’t account for the last two days.

“What’s that got to do with us?” Trevor asked.

“Well, the last thing Mr. Gaffney remembers is being at a bar.”

“What bar?” Carol asked.

“Knight’s,” he said.

Trevor and Carol exchanged a quick look.

“When was this?” Trevor asked.

“Two nights ago. After he left the bar, he says someone called to him from the alley, and he doesn’t remember anything after that.”

“Wow,” said Trevor.

Duckworth brought out his phone, tapped on the photo app. “Here’s a picture of him. He look familiar?”

They both looked at the photo and shook their heads in unison.

“What did they do to him exactly?” Carol asked.

Duckworth hesitated. “I can show you, but it’s not an easy thing to look at, I’m warning you.” With that, he swiped the screen to bring up the previous photo.

“Oh my God, what is that?” Carol asked. “Someone wrote all over his back?”

“It’s a tattoo. It’s permanent.”

“Wait, you mean, like, someone did that to him without his permission?” Carol asked.

“That’s right.”

“How could they do that?” she asked.

“By keeping him knocked out or sedated, it would seem,” Duckworth said, and at that moment his head jerked, as though he’d just remembered something.