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Dorothy returned with Stephanie and they all moved to the living room where Dorothy, a retired teacher who seemed to constantly be watching out for other people’s needs, proceeded through her normal mode of hospitality. She insisted on asking Diego if he needed tea, or anything to eat, or water, or maybe a soda? Politely, Diego insisted she sit down. He was here to care for them, not the other way around.
    “Of course, of course,” Dorothy said, seeming embarrassed.
    The Clarks took the sofa. Stephanie sat nestled between her father and mother. Pastor Diego sat across from them in the creaky old recliner. He sat poised on its edge, leaning in to hear Stephanie, who spoke softly. Dorothy had her hand on Stephanie’s back, rubbing it gently and watching her with attentive eyes. Tim, her father, stared down at his own hands, which were folded together before him. He too sat forward, elbows on the knees of his faded jeans, his bald spot all that faced Diego.
    At first, Diego asked only simple questions about how Stephanie felt. He asked about what she’d been doing last night. Stephanie’s answers were short and nondescript. She’d been out with friends. They had grabbed ice cream, then they decided to go to a movie. Stephanie didn’t want to go. Finally, he asked her about what had happened to her last night. Stephanie looked to her mother, then down to the floor.
    “I don’t really know for sure,” she said.
    “Do you remember anything that happened?” Diego pushed lightly.
    “We’ve been over this with Chief Wilson already,” Tim said, maintaining politeness, though not enough to hide his true feelings about Diego’s questions.
    Diego had to remind himself that not everyone wanted the type of hands-on personal care from their pastor he loved so much. And certainly the Clarks had just been through an awful lot.
    “I understand,” he said. “I really just want to be of help in any way I can.”
    “I just remember the light,” Stephanie spoke up suddenly, still staring down at the floor. “I couldn’t move. It picked me up right out of my bed. The light kept getting brighter. And then … there was nothing. I woke up on the road. That woman was there on her phone calling 911.”
    Tim looked up to Diego. “She really should rest. We appreciate you coming out, but I think she should sleep now.”
    “Of course,” Diego relented. “Maybe we could pray for her first?
    Dorothy glanced at her husband with expectant eyes. It was Tim’s turn to relent. He nodded.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    Squinting in the blinding light, he wondered just why the hell had bothered with this? Right about now he could have been sitting in his condo in Cambridge sipping coffee and reading while the Red Sox game was on in the background. Instead, here he was. But he knew the answer: His book wasn’t about to promote itself. He clicked the tiny remote that advanced his Keynote presentation to the next slide. He moved to the side so he wasn’t looking so directly into the projector’s beam and immediately regretted this. It didn’t matter how many times he looked out at the chairs set up in this local bookstore, the sting of disappointment didn’t lessen. The chairs among the bookshelves could easily have sat forty or more people. Currently only nine people sat scattered about. At least half of them were buried in their smart phones or tablets. One or one hundred, he told himself. Just do your thing and go home.
    “This subject,” Dr. Alan Evans continued his presentation, gesturing to the picture of a severely bruised woman in a hospital gown now on the screen. “Had long periods in a catatonic state, had seizures, and inflicted injuries on herself.”
    With the room so empty and quiet, he couldn’t help but notice a newcomer in the back approach and stop, standing at a distance. But he reminded himself to remain focused on his material. If nothing else, this would serve as more practice until he could land a conference. That is,