This story started here.

"Will you be in Mr. Anson's office for a while?" Ibarra asked. "I know there are no telephones in the primitive tribal village where you live."

"We will wait here for your call."

He hung up without saying goodbye. I turned to the door as Christy came back in. "They're gone," she said. "Mrs. Anson and Ron."

I started to get tense, but Stu said, "I'm sure they're fine. Who would dare to pick on the two of them? Even separately they scare the heck out of me."

"Stu," my employer said, "this may take a while. You can go home if you want. We can stay... but of course it's your wife who drives."

He smiled. "I'd stay in any case. I may be able to help. If it was my child, wouldn't you stay?"

"Of course."

"They probably went out," I said. "There was a bit of research involved in the project Ron was working on."

My employer turned to me. "We haven't had a chance to compare notes, since Ron has been with us all day. What did you find out about her birth family?"

I told them the whole story, mostly verbatim.

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