"After Carol," Ian said, "I'll talk to Pierre. He gets around, from what I hear."

"I don't mind talking to Pierre." He was immature, but a fun guy. Simple and lighthearted. He might know some gossip.

Ian watched her as if he was trying to see inside her. "I'll talk to Pierre. You talk to Hannah and Heather."

Ian They spent the following morning trying to discover more about the personal lives of the staff, but n.o.body seemed to have any romantic secrets beyond the fact that all the women appeared to be secretly or not so secretly in love with Pierre.

After lunch, while Daniela chatted up Henry, the last person they hadn't talked to yet, Ian went to see Clara again, Essie's neighbor. He wanted Essie's phone number so he could call and ask her if she'd seen anything suspicious before she'd moved from the house at the back of the See-Love-Aid property.

If someone had planned the kidnapping, they would have staked out the place days prior to the kidnapping in order to get an idea of people's schedules and movements inside See-Love-Aid. Essie might remember seeing a stranger lurking around.

Clara was more than helpful, once again. She wrote Essie's cell phone down on a wrinkled flyer and handed it to Ian.

"I had the strangest thing happen just this morning." She tapped her head with her knuckles as if saying she was going batty. "I could swear I saw Essie at the market. I tried to catch her, but she got on a bus. I'm sure it wasn't her, but whoever I saw looked just like her." She sighed. "I guess I'm seeing her everywhere because I miss her. She was like a daughter to me."

The woman stepped back to show Ian a picture on the hall table. The photo showed her with a younger woman at some kind of a festival, hugging, laughing.

Essie was pretty, if bony in the shoulders. As Ian leaned closer, he noted a scar on the younger woman's chin. Then another on her cheekbone, as if the skin had split-maybe from a mean punch-and she hadn't bothered to have it st.i.tched, just let it heal on its own.

"Would you mind if I took a picture with my cell phone?"

The woman shook her head. Her eyes clouded. "I'm happy for her, but I miss her. Still, it's good for her to have that job in So Paulo."

Ian sensed something in the quivering tone of her voice. "Wasn't she happy here?"

The woman pressed her lips together. But, after a moment, she said, "That boyfriend of hers. Fabricio Melo." Deep lines of disapproval wrinkled her forehead. "He's not a good man. He's got harsh hands. It's good for Essie that she left. He's a poor fisherman. Essie gave him money." The woman's gaze held motherly worry. "He took money she needed for her baby."

"You know where Fabricio lives?"

The neighbor shrugged. "On his boat, mostly."

Ian thought about that on his way back to Daniela.

Essie's boyfriend was a no-good loser. Maybe the type of guy who could talk his girlfriend-whom he controlled with violence-into doing something criminally stupid.

Let's say Fabricio talked Essie into helping him steal the baby. Then the guy took the baby up north, maybe to Mexico, or all the way to the US for an illegal adoption. Essie might be waiting somewhere around here for him to come back with the money.

If the neighbor had seen Essie in Manaus, that probably meant they didn't have the money yet; the baby hadn't been sold yet. If they had the money, they'd be out of here. Why risk running into someone who knew them? If they suddenly came into money, people around here would wonder where it came from.

But in another city, they could easily start fresh.

Halfway up the stairs, Ian turned around and went back down again. On a hunch, he hopped on the bus that went to the nearest market, the one where Clara would most likely be doing her shopping. If Essie was seen shopping at that particular market, then she had to live somewhere in that direction.

As the bus pulled away from the curb, Ian called Essie's cell phone number.

The phone rang and rang before a woman picked up with a tentative, "Al."

"This is Dr. Ian at the Hospital Adventista," Ian said in his best Portuguese, but didn't bother hiding his accent. There had to be some foreign doctors who worked in Brazilian hospitals. "We have your boyfriend, Fabricio Melo. He's been in a car accident and has a concussion. We can't release him unless someone comes to pick him up. He gave your number as his emergency contact. Can you come and get him?"

Silence stretched on the line. Then m.u.f.fled praying. "I can be there by three."

Ian glanced at his phone as he hung up. Two p.m. He was standing right behind the bus driver, so he asked the guy how to get to Hospital Adventista.

"Get off at the next stop, then take Bus 418," the driver said around some candy he was chewing, then yelled out the window to curse at a cab that cut him off.

Ian followed directions and was standing in front of the hospital in under thirty minutes. Then he settled in by the front doors and waited for Essie, visualizing the young woman he'd seen in her neighbor's photograph.

Essie arrived a few minutes early, jumping off the bus, rushing toward the doors, her narrow face pinched, thin shoulders hunched, her threadbare dress too large on her. She kept rubbing her arms in a nervous gesture.

Ian waited until she walked back out twenty minutes later, a lot less frantic but now with a puzzled frown. She crossed the road and got on a bus. He followed her.

She led him to a poor but fairly decent neighborhood of what looked like blue-collar apartments, up to a second-floor rental. Ian waited on the turn in the staircase while the door closed behind Essie, and she turned the key in the lock. Then he hurried up.

He listened at the door. Couldn't hear anything. He knocked.

"Who is it?" a tentative female voice called in Portuguese after a few seconds, the same voice as the one he'd heard on the phone when he'd called Essie.

"New neighbor. I'd like to introduce myself." Now he tried to hide his accent, but had a feeling he didn't quite succeed.

"My husband doesn't want me to open the door to strangers when he's not at home."

"No problem. I'll come by when he's home. Sorry to bother you."

He listened again. He thought he heard a baby making noises. Nothing suspicious there. Essie had a toddler.

But what if, at one point, she'd had more than one kid in that apartment?

Ian went downstairs, then across the street, settling in next to a smoke shop to see if she might come out, maybe with a stroller to take her little boy for a walk. Ian wanted a chance to talk to her, to ask questions. He wanted to get a feeling for her, what type of person she was. Capable of kidnapping?

From her neighbor's description, Essie wasn't a criminal. If she lied to Ian, he would be able to tell.

But Essie never reappeared.

Ian called Detective Santos. "Any chance you could pull me a police report on a Fabricio Melo? He's a fisherman. Young guy. Aggressive. I'm thinking he might have a record, possibly in domestic violence."

"You found something?" The detective sounded m.u.f.fled, as if he was talking around his dinner.

"I don't know yet. He's the boyfriend of a woman who used to live behind See-Love-Aid. The woman took off just before the kidnapping. I'm just running down everything that even distantly resembles a lead."

A moment of silence on the other end, Santos probably chewing and swallowing. Then he said, "I'll send the report to your phone. But I probably won't have it until tomorrow morning."

"That's fine. I appreciate the help." Ian thanked the man, then let him get back to his dinner.

Once the sky turned dark, Ian headed back to See-Love-Aid. Essie was unlikely to go out now. The streets of Manaus weren't that safe at night, not in this neighborhood. The days might belong to working cla.s.s people, but the nights clearly belonged to the criminals. As he waited for the bus, Ian picked up a discarded newspaper from the bench, rolled it up, and tucked it into the back of his waistband, pulled his shirt over it. He hated being without a weapon.

The bus came. Four teenagers loitered in the back, one openly dealing drugs, a nasty-looking knife hanging on his belt under his parted shirt. The little s.h.i.t measured Ian up, marked him for a foreigner, whispered something to the others. They gave tough-guy laughs, like something they might have seen in a movie. Ian figured every one of them probably had at least a knife.

He knew he didn't look like easy prey, but there were four of them, and sometimes there was stupidity in numbers. So Ian half turned and let his shirt stretch a little over the rolled-up newspaper, gave an eyeful of what would look like a serious concealed weapon from ten feet away. The teens didn't approach.

Ian got off at See-Love-Aid at the same time as a middle-aged prost.i.tute got on in a cloud of perfume. She eyed Ian with regret, the bus driver with hope, and the teens with a look of don't-give-me-s.h.i.t-I-ain't-in-the-mood.

See-Love-Aid was locked up. Ian had to ring the bell. A minute later, someone shuffled forward to open up-Henry, with a baseball bat. Now he was stepping up security.

In his wrinkled T-shirt, his hair mussed, he blinked sleepily at Ian. "Anything?"

Ian shook his head. He didn't want to give false hope.

"Hey, Carol decided to go back to the States," Henry said. "We're giving her a send-off in the morning, if you want to be there to say good-bye."

Ian stopped. "Anything wrong with the baby?"

"Nah, man." Henry shrugged. "I guess she's getting close. Just decided she wanted a US hospital. I guess at this stage, the airlines don't like if you fly. So once she decided, she needed to get going. Or whatever. I don't know, man." He shrugged again. "Maybe what happened with little Lila... I think it spooked Carol."

Ian didn't blame her. "When is she leaving?"

"Crack of dawn. Sevenish."

"Thanks for letting me know." Ian drummed up the stairs as Henry locked the door behind him.

They'd say good-bye to Carol, then he'd take Daniela to Essie's apartment. Daniela sounded like the locals. And she was a woman. Essie wouldn't feel threatened by her.

He'd bet Daniela would have no trouble talking her way in. And then she could take a look around, see if there was any sign of a second baby having been in the apartment. She could ask why the sudden move from Essie's old place, when she had a good friend next door. Why lie about going to So Paulo?

That lie... That meant something.

So Ian was going back with Daniela to see Essie. First thing tomorrow morning.

Daniela Daniela looked up from her laptop when Ian walked in deep in thought, his brow furrowed. She was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her.

"Anything new?" Ian looked her over, as if to make sure she was all right, then, satisfied, he moved to the open window that let in only the slightest of breezes through the screen, and stared out, back to whatever thoughts were flying around in his head.

She updated him on the staff interviews she'd spent her day on, finishing with "Not a single new clue. No one had an affair we didn't already know about. Nothing."

"Carol is leaving tomorrow," Ian said. "Henry just told me when I came in. I didn't realize."

"I thought she would have told you."

"You knew?"

"I saw the ticket confirmation in her room yesterday. I was looking for her and popped my head in."

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking why she hadn't told him.

She shrugged. She hadn't wanted to talk about Carol with Ian, for a variety of reasons. One being that Carol's leaving meant there'd be another room available. Ian would jump on the opportunity to move out of their shared accommodation.

Daniela made a point to relax the clenched muscles in her shoulders. Focus on the investigation.

But it seemed Ian wasn't yet ready to let go of the Carol topic. "I hope her baby is born safely. I'd like to catch her in the morning before she leaves to say good-bye."

Daniela swallowed her jealousy. "Where did you go today?"

Then she listened as Ian told her about Clara seeing Essie, the phone call that brought Essie to the hospital, then following Essie back to her apartment, finishing with "I wish I could take you there right now, but if we show up at her door at night, it'll make her suspicious. She's home alone with her child. She isn't going to let in strangers in the middle of the night."

"We'll go in the morning." Excitement over a possible clue made Daniela forget all about Carol. She popped up from the floor and settled on the middle of her bed with her laptop so she wouldn't be in Ian's way as he moved around. "I'll say I'm from the post office and she needs to sign for a delivery."

Ian went straight to his bed and sat on the end of the mattress, facing her.

She stifled a sigh. One of these days, she would dearly like to be in a bedroom together with him and be in the same bed again. She couldn't forget how she felt when she'd woken up in his arms in Rio, or when he'd held her on the bus the other day. She wanted his arms around her again.

"Essie lived within thirty yards of the Heyerdahls' window," he was saying, his thoughts clearly far away from the two of them in bed.

Because he was a professional investigator, and she was a twit. She forced herself to focus on what he was saying.

"Her boyfriend came to visit pretty frequently, from what the neighbor said. So maybe Fabricio saw the blonde baby girl out back at See-Love-Aid, maybe the Heyerdahls watched a basketball game with their daughter, and Essie's boyfriend figured he could make money. Right now, it's the best possibility I can come up with."

Daniela could see it. "He either talked or forced Essie into helping him. He needed Essie to take care of the baby. And if he pa.s.sed the baby out the window, lowering her somehow, he needed Essie down on the ground. Probably with a stroller. Once baby Lila was in the stroller, if someone caught a glance, they wouldn't have given it a second thought. Essie must have been out there with her little boy all the time."

"So they plan out the kidnapping," Ian said, "then Essie moves, a day or two before. Perfect alibi. The cops never even thought to track her down."

"But she only moved into another neighborhood."

"She's waiting for the boyfriend to return with the money."

Maybe. "Or," Daniela said, "maybe the boyfriend is still here. And baby Lila too. Maybe they decided to stick around Manaus for a while, until the police stop looking for the baby. I doubt they can keep an intensive investigation up much longer, even for an American baby. They wouldn't have that kind of budget."

Excitement flashed across Ian's face for a second, then melted away. "Would Essie have run to the hospital if Fabricio was living with her?"

"Maybe he's living with her, but he hadn't been at the apartment when you called. He could be keeping up appearances, out fishing."

Ian gave a slow nod. "Or he could be off somewhere, trying to make connections, find the right person to pa.s.s Lila to. He's a fisherman. He isn't in the human trafficking business."

Daniela watched him. Did he see how good they were together? "A crying baby wouldn't be suspicious at Essie's new apartment," she said, "since Essie has her own child. She could move around with a stroller, the baby covered up, and n.o.body would think anything of it."

G.o.d, if they could bring back baby Lila tomorrow to her parents. She'd be willing to do anything to make that happen. But she also wanted to stay realistic. "And if the baby isn't there?"

Ian lay down on his bed and folded his arms under his head, but tension hung around him like mist around the river as he stared at the ceiling. "We call in Detective Gustavo Santos and the local police. A city as big as Manaus has to have some kind of a forensics team. They can sweep the apartment for DNA. Babies spit up and mess up diapers. If baby Lila has been in that apartment, she left DNA evidence, I guarantee it."

Daniela put away her laptop and lay down on her side. She'd already showered and had on her nightgown. She watched Ian in the light of the single table lamp on the shared nightstand between them. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over his muscles.

He was a strong man. Probably stronger than Henry and Pierre put together.

In her experience, the strong took what they could from the weak-the law of the jungle. But Ian protected the weak. He made her feel safe, but he made her feel other things too. He wasn't crazy religious, but to her, he was a better man than the village missionary.

He cared about the baby they were looking for. He cared about Carol and her unborn child. He cared about the girls. He cared about his friend Finch, and still would not forget Finch's death, no matter how many years had pa.s.sed. He put himself in danger to get Finch justice.