Donatti smiled. Devek wasn’t much of a team player. He’d been dragging his heels with the divorce papers. He was reluctant to go to Sanjay. He needed a push, something to put fire under his ass. Which was exactly what Donatti gave him. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just pay up the extra cash you promised me to do the deed.”

“I will when I’m positive it’s him. I’ll need multiple images. And two newspapers. The Times of India in English and Dainik Bhaskar. And I want at least six pictures of him with the kid and with the newspaper. Send them in five minutes.”

“Donatti, it’s him.”

“Seeing is believing, and since I’m writing the checks, I want something more than your word.”

He hung up and grabbed two sheets of paper. He was already out the door to Gabe’s room. He waved to the guard on duty outside the girl’s door.

“How’s it going, Jeff?”

“Fine, Mr. Donatti. Is everything okay?”

“Perfect.” He went through his usual rigamarole to get into his son’s private space: pupil recognition and then the code. He opened the door, interrupting Juleen’s Spanish lesson. Her teacher was one of his workers. The woman was brunette and buxom and every bit the image of the Latina bombshell that men fantasized about. She was trained as an educator in her native Venezuela, but since money and food were scarce and she spoke English, she was elected by her family to go to America and send back U.S. dollars. There were more respectable ways to put bread on the table, but none was as fast as sex work.

“Session’s over,” Donatti announced. “Thank you, Daniela. Juleen will see you tomorrow.”

Confusion registered on her face. Still, Daniela gathered up her materials. She was used to taking orders without questions. After she left and the door was closed, Donatti’s phone rang.

The voice said, “I’m sending them over now on WhatsApp. They’ll disintegrate in thirty seconds.”

“I’ll need more time. Two minutes at least.”

The line disconnected. Donatti beckoned Juleen forward with a finger. The girl was wearing a sleeveless yellow top and white shorts. The bandage had recently come off her twisted ankle, allowing her to wear flip-flops. These were pink with red hearts. When she was close to him, he pulled her closer and showed her the screen of his phone. “I’m going to show you some images. If you recognize the face, I want you to tell me who it is, okay?”

She nodded, looking as serious as ever. Donatti heard the ding and pulled up the images. He turned to her. “Who is that?”

Juleen’s eyes moistened. “That’s my father.”

“Scroll through all of them.”

She swiped the phone. There were six images. “It’s my father.”

“You’re a hundred percent sure?”

“Yes.”