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the topic of 9/11 cropped up. The client
told Mr Repp that he knew a lot of people who died that day, and he mentioned a few firms. One of the firms he mentioned was Hadlow-Jones. So when he said this, Mr Repp dug out his old list and
started reading out the names. And then he got to Patricia.’
    ‘He recognized her name?’
    She nods. ‘He wanted to know what the list was. So Mr Repp told him it was the employees of Hadlow-Jones who lost their lives. And this client, you know what he said? He said, “Not
if Patricia Sachs is on there, it isn’t. When I saw her a couple weeks after the attack, she couldn’t have been any healthier.” ’
    Doyle stops her with a raised finger. ‘Wait a minute. This guy saw Patricia
after
9/11?’
    ‘Yes, after. At the Port Authority Bus Terminal. She was getting aboard a Greyhound.’
    Doyle sees a gleam somewhere behind the dim surface of her eyes. He tries to imagine how overwhelmed Mrs Sachs must have felt when confronted with the possibility that her daughter was still on
this earth. With a rope like that dangling before her, she would have been willing to be led anywhere.
    ‘What else did Repp tell you?’
    ‘Not much. Not at that meeting, anyhow. He simply gave me his card and said that if I wanted him to look into it further, he would be only too happy to help.’
    ‘For a fee, of course.’
    ‘Yes. For a fee. But money is not the issue here. Not if my daughter is still out there somewhere. Alive.’
    Doyle would like to differ over the money issue. In his opinion, financial considerations are probably very much at the center of what’s going on here. But, for now, he keeps it to
himself.
    ‘So you hired Repp?’
    She shoots him a sharp look intended to remind him of her mental acuity. ‘Not immediately. I told him I wanted to speak with the man who said he saw Patricia.’
    ‘Did Repp set that up?’
    ‘Yes, he did. The man’s name is Pinter. He used to work for Invar Insurance. I have his business card somewhere. The meeting we had didn’t take long. He didn’t know
Patricia very well, but he’d met her on a few occasions, and he was pretty sure it was her he saw at the Bus Terminal. He said he even called her name, and she glanced his way, but then she
jumped on the bus like she was afraid of something.’
    ‘Did Pinter seem genuine enough?’
    ‘Absolutely he seemed genuine. Even if he was mistaken about seeing Patricia, I think he truly believed it was her.’
    ‘Did he explain why he hadn’t spoken up about this before?’
    ‘You think I didn’t ask him that? I asked him. He said he didn’t even know that Patricia was supposed to be dead. He hadn’t worked with the Hadlow-Jones people in a long
time, and so the first time he heard Patricia’s name again was when Mr Repp mentioned her.’
    ‘So then you hired Repp?’
    ‘I did. You wanna call me a fool, then call me a fool. I don’t care. I would give everything I own in the world to see my Patricia again.’
    Doyle rests his index finger on the photograph. ‘And he came up with this?’
    ‘Amongst other things, yes.’
    ‘Did he say where the picture was taken?’
    ‘Boston.’
    ‘Boston? Is there any reason why your daughter would go there?’
    ‘None that I know of.’
    ‘Mrs Sachs, how old is your daughter?’
    ‘I’m eighty-three now. I didn’t have Patricia until late in life. I was forty at the time.’
    Doyle studies the photograph again. It’s not the sharpest of snaps. The woman could be forty-three, but she could also be somewhere around thirty.
    ‘You get anything else from Repp?’
    ‘Several more sightings. The last one in Chicago.’
    Doyle sighs. It’s all so neat, so convenient.
    ‘Mrs Sachs, when people disappear like this, just dropping off the edge of the world, it’s not on a whim. They have reasons. Big reasons. They’re throwing away a life, usually
because they’re so sick of it they need to start a new one. Was it like that for Patricia? Did things