“Easy.” Felperstone looked so pleased with himself. “The list was clearly written in advance by last night’s receptionist. There was just one entry in another hand, in ink of a subtly different blue—presumably made by this morning’s receptionist when they arrived without a reservation. And there’s a note that the room’s been paid for up front in cash. It has to be them.” He was absolutely in his element. Standing taller now, and with a hungry look about him like a wild beast about to spring for the kill.

Robert, on the other hand, was weak-kneed and sick to his stomach as they entered the elevator. Felperstone asked for the third floor, then firmly turned his back, leaving Robert fumbling in his pocket for a tip and wishing he was anywhere but here.

Zachari was playing with a few strands of Genevieve’s hair, running them across his hand, tightening them so they became a single thread, combing his fingers through.

“I never saw her. They said they’d buried her in an unmarked grave. I didn’t even see a mound of earth. It eats away at me, wondering what really happened.”

“You think she’s still alive?”

“Maybe. They might have told me she was dead so that I wouldn’t stop them from giving her away.”

“You could try to find her.” He was still playing with the hair. “How?”

“You could ask your father.”

“He’d never tell me the truth.”

He kissed her bare shoulder. “The doctor, then.”

“I won’t get anything out of him. He’s been paid well.”

“Your father’s not the only one with money.”

“No.”

He let go her hair. “It doesn’t seem like you, to be afraid to go after the truth.”

“But I am afraid. Afraid of finding out for sure that she’s dead. As long as I don’t know for certain, there’s a chance that she’s alive.” She gazed past him, out the window at the clear sky. “There’s something else. Maybe she didn’t die the way they told me.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think they could have done that?”

“I don’t know. It tortures me.”

A thunk from outside made them both jump. It seemed someone had banged suddenly on the window, but looking up, they saw a stream of bird shit had just landed on the glass.

“You hate me now.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and lay in a ball. “I should never have told you.”

But his hand was on the back of her neck, stroking. “I don’t hate you. You were a young girl having an adventure, and it ruined your life.”

Slowly she uncurled. “What are we going to do, Paolo?”

“Us? I think we should meet as often as we can. Make love as often as we can.”

“And what then? What will happen to us?”