“None at all. He was either in Elaine’s room on the third floor during her medical procedures or out in the hall while they were changing her or doing things he didn’t need to be there for. He had use of the third floor hall restroom. That was it.”

“Did he ever speak to the members of your security detail?”

“How should I know? I wasn’t tracking his movements in the house. Ask Garrett. He might know.”

“We will, thank you. May I ask you why you chose Tunney Security Solutions for your home security?”

“That isn’t any of your business.”

“We don’t mean to pry. But any information might be what helps us find Mr. Albert.”

“For what good it will do you,” Wooldridge said, and for the first time directed his attention at me. “You. Vasquez, is it?”

“Valdez, sir.”

“Valdez. You’re a dispatcher.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You ever lost one?”

“Have I ever had a failed dispatch? No, sir.”

“Never happens.”

“It can happen. I’ve been lucky.”

Wooldridge made another hand motion and leaned forward. “Luck is bullshit. You do your job or you don’t. You’ve never lost one.”

“Not so far.”

“How long have you been a dispatcher?”

“Eight years.”

“Let me ask you something. In those eight years, in which you’ve never lost a client, have you ever, ever, heard of a dispatcher losing two clients in a row?”

“Two failed dispatches in sequence?”

“Yes! Jesus, pay attention.”

“No, sir. I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Ever.”

“No, sir.”

“What are the odds of that? Two in a row?”

I was suddenly very conscious of the three dice in my pocket. “About one in a million.”

Wooldridge clapped his hands together suddenly. “Yes. That’s right. One in a million. That’s what I was told, too. You have a better chance of being hit by lightning, I was told.”

“Mr. Wooldridge, is this about your wife?” Langdon asked. “Did Mr. Albert fail to dispatch her?”

Wooldridge ignored her and kept his attention on me. “What do you think about God, Valdez? You kill people and then bring them back. Do you think that’s evidence for God? Does your job make you a new sort of priest? A priest who offers the sacrament of the bullet?”

“I don’t know if there’s a God, Mr. Wooldridge.”

“That’s a depressingly equivocal answer, Valdez. You don’t really believe that, do you? People get murdered and they magically reappear after their deaths! At home! In their homes, Valdez! Wherever in the world they’re murdered, they reappear where they live. Are you under the impression that quantum physics knows people have physical addresses? What else can it be but God?”