The monster rains had ceased sometime in the night, and the sun had been up for two hours, drying the streets and sidewalks. It was going to be hot later on—the sun was already strong—but for the moment one could believe in things like new beginnings. Ted rarely allowed himself to feel that way, even when the weather presented the opportunity.

“Back to my apartment, Mohammed,” he said. “Take a right at Flushing Avenue and I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“I’m on it, boss.” He pulled away from the curb with a neck-snapping lurch.

“Safety first,” Lester mumbled.

Flushing ran into Grand Avenue which was a challenge to Mohammed’s love of speed. Traffic to and from the expressway slowed them to an excruciating crawl. The five-minute drive took twenty. Mohammed tapped out frenetic rhythms on the steering wheel while Lester glowered in the back seat, feeding his foul mood. Ted tried to make plans—or at least to organize his thoughts—but his concern for Kenzie overwhelmed all else.

Israel Ortiz—Ted’s landlord, accountant, and lawyer and the emperor of the first-floor emporium—was at his desk in the far corner of the store, surrounded by displays of candles, Bibles, framed pictures of a Latino-looking Jesus, and dolls representing Shango, Oshun, and Obatala figures, though they all looked identical to Ted. Just inside the door Israel’s secretary, Phateena, looked up as Ted entered and made a noise halfway between a squeak and a squeal.

“Israel,” she cried. “He’s here.” She stood and quickly walked out of the room, her rubber sandals making slapping sounds as she retreated.

Israel looked green—seasick.

“What’s up, Israel?” Ted didn’t move. He felt that the wrong signal, the wrong word, could shatter the tension in the air.

Israel stood slowly, giving himself plenty of time to think of a tactful way to present his case.

Ted had seen the act before and didn’t buy into it. “Just tell me what the hell happened.”

“There was a man looking for you,” Israel answered.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“A big man. He frightened Phateena.”

“And you, too, it appears.”

Israel nodded.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“You know this man?” Israel asked.

Ted had a bad feeling that they’d met before—and not that long ago. “Not big. Frigging huge. Squeaky voice? Like Axl Rose on helium. Am I right?”

“He went in upstairs.”

Israel meant he had let the giant into Ted’s apartment. Breaking in through the metal door and frame would have left an expensive mess. Israel had handed over the keys.

“Did he take anything?” Other than his laptop, Ted owned nothing of any value. His paper files were all backed up in the cloud. Setting up a new computer would be a nuisance, nothing more. Nevertheless, he felt sick to his stomach.