“Just a heads-up they’ll be painting next week,” he said, and jabbed a finger at some text. “If you have any of these conditions, make sure to close your windows. And get one of those masks, if you need it.”

“Thanks,” I said, and realized the hall was strangely bright. The sun wasn’t supposed to have tracked over the skylight by now. “What time is it?”

The manager had already turned to the door across the hall. “Eleven thirty.”

I hurried to the bedroom, furious. How could I oversleep when I should be in the middle of everything, fully alert, exerting control?

And just as in my most devastating fantasy, Lane’s desk was cleared when I got to the Bystander. I went straight for it, I couldn’t help myself—the action figures gone, the surface wiped clean. The drawers were all pulled out, empty.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Gordon said, walking over with a takeout cappuccino.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I thought you’d take a few days. I know there was no love lost there, so to speak, but still.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I liked Lane.”

“Well, that was my point.” He slurped the foam and licked it off his upper lip.

“Right,” I said. “I guess I might take some time, eventually. But right now it just feels better to be here, you know—stay focused on something.”

Gordon set his cappuccino on the desk. “Lane’s mother came and cleaned it out,” he said. “It was a bit of a scene.”

“She came here?”

He pointed to Mort’s office, and at that very moment Mort was pointing back at me, and I saw Lane’s mother, Louise, crane her neck to squint through the window. Mort motioned for me to join them.

Scrunched-up Kleenex covered his desk and he looked totally depleted. Louise sat hugging a cardboard box, nostrils red, a tissue clenched in her veiny fist. Balancing the box on her lap, she opened her arms wide to me. I glanced at Mort as I leaned down for the hug. He’d taken the opportunity to rest his eyes.

“I’m glad I got to see you,” she said. “You were his favorite.”

“He was great at his job,” I lamely replied.

“She’s right,” Mort added. “He was really first-rate.”

“He would’ve been a writer one day,” she said. “He had a lot of ambition. He didn’t like to show it off, but in a few years he would’ve been one of your best.”

Mort smiled and said, “I’m sure you’re right.”

Louise dabbed her nose with Kleenex, then tossed it on the table and yanked another from the box.

“Oh, Whitney, he adored you. Just look.”