“I’d say the odds of getting any usable information out of the ambulette company are only slightly better than me getting a scratch-off Win for Life.”

“We’re going to find her, Lester.”

“Or we could spend the next month calling all the eldercare facilities in the tristate region asking if they took in an old lady yesterday. How many do you think there are? Five hundred? A thousand?”

“If we get stuck, we start by calling the top-tier nursing homes first. And then we’re going to nail their asses,” Ted said.

Lester did not look at him. He stared out at the wind-swept boardwalk. “You believe that? Or are you just wishing it was so?”

“I don’t know, but right now it feels pretty good.”

“With or without the police?” Lester said, not turning his head.

“I don’t know that either. Does it matter?”

Lester finally faced Ted. “When do we get Anora her green card? She’s earned it.”

Ted grimaced. “I made a promise. I may not yet have a plan, but I am aware I made a promise, and I mean to keep it.”

Mohammed came into view, his car slaloming through the half-filled parking lot. Lester frowned. “You ever go to Coney Island when you were a kid? Play on those bumper cars?”

“He’s not that bad,” Ted said.

“That’s not a ringing endorsement.”

They walked to the curb. Lester stopped and faced Ted again. “There’s still a lot we don’t know.”

“That’s a reasonable synopsis of our situation.”

They nodded at each other, both acknowledging how far they yet had to travel—and the costs they might have to pay.

Lester looked away first. “And then there’s the immediate question,” he said.

“What’s that?”

Lester held up the pastry box. “What the hell am I going to do with this cake?”

-59-

-59-

Ted left Lester at the Afghan dormitory with instructions to call and get whatever he could from Cross County Ambulette Transportation Services. Mohammed made the midmorning trip to the hospital in record time while Ted hid behind the Daily News, deliberately not watching their erratic progress. When traffic slowed, Mohammed sometimes created a fourth lane on the highway, squeezing between other vehicles like a daredevil motorcyclist.