“He wasn’t there.” He brightens a little as he digs out his cell phone and hands it to me. “But there were thunderstorms last night. Maybe his plane couldn’t land. He’s probably still stuck in the airport in DC.”

“He would have called,” I say.

“How?”

“They let other people get calls,” I say, thinking of Teresa’s conversation with her pastor. “People that weren’t even parents.”

“Were they people who are scientists studying this whole thing?” Jasper asks. “Try him again.”

He’s right, of course. Because Dr. Haddox may not know who I am, but somebody surely does.

I dial my dad’s number again. I am so relieved when it doesn’t go straight to voice mail. But when someone finally answers, it’s a young woman. I pull it away from my face, hoping that I’ve dialed the wrong number. I haven’t.

“Hello?” I say.

“Hello?” she snaps back, much louder this time.

“Who is this?” My heart is drumming inside my rib cage. “Why do you have my dad’s phone?”

“Well, that was awful accusatory,” she says, and with an edge that makes me think I am exactly right to be accusing her. “I’m trying to be a Good Samaritan. And you’re coming at me like I’ve done something. How about a thank you? You know what? Maybe I’ll hang up now.”

“Wait!” I shout. “Please don’t hang up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—but this is my dad’s phone, and I can’t find him. Um, why do you have it?”

“I found it,” she says, like that’s obvious. “Probably he was doing his shopping, and it fell out of his pocket. It happens all the time to my boyfriend. I’m always telling him he needs a man purse, and he’s like screw you, I am not carrying a purse. But I told him: You want to lose your damn phone?” She takes a breath like she’s forgotten who she’s talking to or what about. “Anyway, you can’t carry your phone in your hand while you’re shopping in a big marketplace like this. Too many distractions. You’re always going to end up setting it down.”

“What marketplace?”

“Eastern Market,” she says, like that also ought to be obvious.

“Where’s that?” My hand is trembling. And I want to scream at her. Demand that she explain everything to me, immediately. But she’s already almost hung up on me once. I need to stay calm. Be patient. “I’m calling from Boston. I don’t know an Eastern Market.”

“Boston?” She laughs. “Well, we’re in D.C., right near Capitol Hill. I’ll tell you what. Because you’re so far away, why don’t you PayPal me some money for shipping, and, you know, to cover my inconvenience, and I’ll send it right back to you today.”