“Have a good evening, then.” He hesitated, a hairbreadth from inviting her to get a drink and maybe a bite to eat. She looked so damned lonely in the empty shop.

12

Grandy?” Natalie partially opened the door to his apartment. “Charlie’s going to be here at nine to take you to breakfast.”

Silence. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hey, Grandy.”

As usual, his bed was neatly made, the small table carefully arranged with his typewriter and pages about the Sunrose Building. He’d always been fastidious. The wheelchair was parked over by the radiator. The scent of witch hazel still hung in the bathroom. But her grandfather was gone.

A jolt of panic sent her rushing to the back door. Opening it wide to the garden, she ran down the ramp and looked around but saw no sign of him. Then she hurried back to the shop, where Peach was setting up for the day’s work. Today’s challenge was to tackle the electrical panel, now open like a tangle of exposed nerves. The old building’s antiquated wiring was objectively dangerous and probably wildly out of compliance. The attic space was swagged with ancient knobs and tubes from times long past, and the whole panel needed to be reconfigured. Peach had warned her that inspectors were notoriously picky.

“Have you seen my grandfather?” she asked.

“Today? Nope.” He had the panel box open and was studying the breakers as if they held the day’s winning lottery numbers.

“He’s gone,” she said. “I’m afraid he wandered off.” Her stomach knotted. Grandy’s care team, still baffled by his symptoms, had mentioned the possibility that he could leave the house—“exit-seeking,” it was called—and lose his way. “It’s all my fault,” she said. “I meant to set an alert on the security system but I haven’t done it yet. Oh my God, if something hap—”

“Easy,” said Peach, heading for the front door. “We’ll find him. He couldn’t have left this way. I let myself in this morning with the code and locked the door from the inside behind me.”

She felt the color drop from her face. “The back door wasn’t locked.”

They both made a dash for it. She called Grandy’s name and got no response. Peach checked the back gate. “Good news,” he said. “This is still locked. I doubt he’s spry enough to jump the fence.”

She was about to call 911. “Then where—”

“There,” he said, pointing to a small space at the side of the building. “Isn’t that his cane?”

It was leaning next to the panel door that provided outside access to a long-neglected crawl space that May Lin had used as a shed to store her gardening tools and supplies. “Grandy!” She ducked her head and poked it inside. “What are you doing?”