“I see,” Mr. Griffiths said. He toyed with his pen. “Well then, I can understand how upset you must be. If it is any solace, I can personally assure you that we will be making extensive inquiries into this tragedy.”

Marissa was about to continue when she thought better of it. She wasn’t sure about what she was saying herself. Until the moment she’d voiced the opinion about the Asian being the same one in the hotel dining room, she hadn’t thought of it. Besides, it was clear to her that the police inspector was being patronizing. She had the distinct impression she was being humored.

“If there is nothing more for the moment,” Mr. Griffiths said, “you two may go. But we would like to request that you remain on the island. We’ll be contacting you tomorrow. I can also assure you that there will be an extensive search of the area for Mrs. Wilson-Anderson’s remains.”

Marissa and Rafe left the police station together. Rafe walked her back to her hotel. In the lobby, he paused before leaving her and said: “I’m really sorry for what happened. If I can help while you are here, please come down to the Oz.”

Marissa thanked him, then went up to her room. After closing the door and seeing Wendy’s belongings, she burst into fresh tears.

“I can’t believe this has happened,” Marissa said with a choking voice a half hour later once her sobs had tapered off. Getting up from the bed, she got Wendy’s suitcase and packed away all her things. While she worked, she thought about everything that had been happening in the past few months. It seemed to her that the consequences of her infertility were beginning to spiral into horrendously tragic proportions.

After putting Wendy’s packed suitcase into the corner of the closet, Marissa walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. For several minutes she eyed the phone, trying to muster her courage.

Finally, she picked up the receiver and dialed her home in Weston. The phone rang only twice before Robert’s groggy voice said, “Hello?” Marissa realized that it was after two A.M. in Boston.

“Robert!” Marissa blurted out. “Something terrible has happened.” Then, before she could tell him anything, she burst into hysterical tears again. It took five minutes before she could tell him about Wendy.

“My God!” Robert said.

Marissa described her suspicions; that Wendy’s death might have been deliberate, not accidental.

Robert didn’t reply at first. Then, like the police inspector, he reminded her that she’d had a terrible shock. “After such an experience your imagination can do strange things,” he told her. “You might be trying to ascribe blame where there is none. Anyway, try to relax. Try not to think too much.”

“Could you come?” Marissa suddenly asked.

“To Australia?” Robert said. “I think you should come home instead.”