For five days, Derek heard nothing from his father. At night he slept fitfully, sometimes waking to turn on the light and sit wondering. On the sixth day, at around ten in the morning, Derek received the WhatsApp call he had been praying for.

“Hi, son,” Gordon said, his voice as taut as a stretched rubber band about to snap.

“Dad. Thank God. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m still at the Kempinski Hotel in Accra. Nice place, five-star—all the trimmings.”

“Okay, that’s cool,” Derek said impatiently, “but what’s going on?”

His father took such a long time to respond that Derek thought the line had cut. “Hello?”

“I didn’t really meet Helena,” Gordon said. “I lied to you because I was so embarrassed. You were right, I was wrong. I called and texted her for days. The number’s a dud. I’ve been had.”

“Shit,” Derek said. “Jesus.”

“Right.”

“Dad, I’m sorry.” Gordon was silent, but Derek could sense the heaviness of his brooding. “Fuck. Dad, I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘I told you so?’” Gordon said with resignation. “You might as well, since that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Dad. Come on. I’m not the enemy here.”

“I know, I know. Sorry. Cheap shot.”

“Don’t worry about it. So, what happened exactly when you arrived in Ghana?”

“Not a whole lot,” Gordon said with a bitter laugh. “No Helena at the airport, no Helena reachable by phone, WhatsApp, email, you name it. I waited for that message or phone call to come, but it never did. I feel like such a goddamn fool. I’ve been scammed. I’m one of those idiots who’s been duped by some fucking teenager sitting in front of a computer in some shitty Internet café. I don’t think I’ll ever live this down.”

“You can, and you will,” Derek said. “I’m here for you.”

“Thank you. Feels good to hear that.”

“Of course.”

“It’s weird. Every so often I feel this little glimmer of hope. That she’ll call. My mind clinging by its fingernails to a futile hope.”

“I imagine that’s a normal reaction,” Derek said. “You’re coming back home as soon as you can, right?”

“I’ll need to go to the Delta office in town to find out the earliest flight I can get back. Today’s Saturday and Monday is a national holiday here, so it’ll have to be Tuesday.”

“Okay,” Derek said. “Meanwhile, just relax at the hotel, take it easy. And don’t talk to anyone about this, either.”

Gordon grunted. “As if I would even want to. Have you spoken to Cas?”

“Last night. Just wanted to know if he’d heard any news.”

“I’ll call him. I know he’s been trying to reach me.”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “He’s been worried. He cares about you.”

“I know. But me . . . well, I’m an asshole.”

“If you don’t stop beating yourself up about this,” Derek said, “Imma beat the crap out of you.”

To their mutual relief, that flash of humor worked, and they had a laugh. “Okay, son,” Gordon said. “I guess I’ll hang up now. I’ll text you tomorrow.”