The second officer, who has so far been quiet, puts a hand on the shoulder of the first, and the two exchange a wordless gaze, no doubt communicating an entire conversation between them. It shocks Ify to see so human a moment happen between the men, snapping the illusion that they are nothing more than chunks of unthinking metal.

When the first officer looks back, he seems to relax. “Enjoy your stay in Nigeria, Ms. Leung.” They turn, almost in unison, to walk away.

“My ID!” Grace shouts.

The first officer turns back around, fishes a card out of his pocket, and holds it out to Ify. By now, Grace is standing, if hunched over and brushing the dust off herself.

Ify snatches it out of the man’s hand and glares at him, unblinking, until the two officers vanish into the crowd.

When Ify is certain they’re out of earshot, she whirls around. “What were you thinking? Are you stupid? Are you trying to get us killed? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” It’s as though so much of the anger she’s tried to suppress is now spilling out of her. She catches herself when Grace’s composure breaks and her bottom lip begins trembling.

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” she manages through the beginning of sobs.

Then Ify sees it. The terror shaking Grace’s bones against each other. The resolve and clinical discipline washed away by fear. And she brings Grace into her arms. “It’s okay.”

Grace cries into Ify’s shoulder, and they stand there for several minutes, Ify smoothing Grace’s hair, an island of quiet in the sea of people rushing around them. “I thought I could conduct some research.”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Grace looks up at Ify. “I didn’t do anything, Doctor. I swear.”

“It’s okay. I’m . . . I’m sorry for losing it. I just . . . it’s been a long time since . . . well, I’m not used to being back is all.”

“But, Doctor, all I was doing was collecting stories of the war.”

“We don’t have to do any more work tonight. Let’s just go home and rest.”

“But wait!” She breaks away from Ify, and that resolve is back.

Ify moves closer so that they can speak in whispers. “It’s normal for people not to want to talk about their trauma.”

“That’s the thing. I’d done all my research previously. When I asked them about the war, they had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Maybe some of them were far from the worst of it. There’s an explanation, Grace. Let’s go.”

“But, Doctor, no one knew about the war. I spoke with over a dozen people before the police came.”

Ify frowns. “Where were these people?”