At first all he got was an irregular blotch of black scribbles. So he decided to slide the paper along under the tip. And as he did, figures that looked like letters began to appear. He kept working at it, varying the speed until . . .

“What on Earth are you doing?” Eddie said as he returned to the room carrying some papers.

“Trying to find out what she’s writing.”

“You heard the doctor—random neurons.”

Yeah, Jack had heard. But he knew doctors could be as pigheaded as anyone else, refusing to see what was dangling before their noses because it didn’t fit their preconceived notions.

“Really?” Jack held up the latest sheet he’d run under her finger. “This look random to you?”

Eddie frowned and squinted at it. “ ‘Bummyhouse’? What’s that mean?”

“I was hoping for a ‘Eureka!’ from you. No bells going off, no lightning-bolt epiphany?”

“No.”

“Google it.”

Eddie handed Jack his papers, then pulled out his BlackBerry or whatever and did a fingertip tap dance. A few seconds later . . .

“I’ve got ‘buy my house’ but nothing else.”

“Could it be ‘bummy horse’? Was she into horses, OTB, anything like that?”

“No. She’d never bet on anything anywhere. She thought everything was fixed.”

“Why am I not surprised? Try it anyway.”

In its own nice way, Google told them to go fish.

“Well then, what about ‘bunny house’? Did she have a pet rabbit?”

“No. She’s never been into pets.”

Right . . . she’d never had one as a kid. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t become a cat lady . . . or a bunny lady.

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I was just at her house. I searched it from cellar to attic yesterday and believe me, there’s no rabbit hutch there.”

“They’re usually outside. Did you search outside?”

Eddie hesitated. “No . . .”

“So there could be an old unused hutch there, maybe left over from the previous owner.”

“Could be, but—”

“And maybe she’s hidden something there.”

“Jack—”

“We should go see. Jackson Heights, right? This time of day the subway’ll get us there in no time.”

Eddie was staring at him. “You’re really into this. Why?”

“Because it’s Weezy. And my curiosity’s up. Paranoid or not, she thought something might happen to her. And something did. Now, it might or might not have been an accident—”

“It wasn’t a hit and run, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He pointed to the papers he’d handed Jack. “I got a copy of the police report from the nurse. A lady from Jersey hit her. Said she ran right in front of her.”

Jack scanned the report. A couple of witnesses corroborated the driver’s story. They also said a guy scooped up Weezy’s shoulder bag right after she was hit and took off running.

He handed the report to Eddie. “Okay. So it was an accident—at least that part of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe she was being chased.”

“Oh, come on, Jack.”

“Was Weezy the type to just step out into traffic?”

“She was the type to get lost in thought. She was also the type to worry about being followed, which might lead her to be watching over her shoulder when she should have been watching traffic.”

Jack sighed and nodded. “You’re right, you’re right. Just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Oh. Almost forgot.” Eddie reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, flat, metallic rectangle. “They found this in her pocket.”

Jack took it from him and turned it over. IMATION was printed on its side.

“Flash drive.”

“Right. She was never without one. She had all her posts prewritten and ready to go so she could get on and offline as quickly as possible.”

“At these Internet cafés and such she frequented.”

Eddie nodded. “Exactly. A little sad, isn’t it.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She obviously believed that someone was looking for her.

“I wonder if we should—”

“Excuse me?”

Jack turned and saw a swarthy, dark-haired guy stepping into the room. He looked like he’d just shaved but he still had five-o’clock shadow.

“I understand one of you is brother?”

Jack tried to identify his accent. Polish? Czech?

Eddie said, “That would be me.”

The guy extended his hand. “Bob Garvey. I was there when your sister hit. I call nine-one-one.”

“Well, thank you,” Eddie said, shaking his hand. “I appreciate that, and I’m sure my sister does too.”

“The least one could do.” Bob turned and extended his hand to Jack. “And you are other brother?”

“Just a friend,” he said as they shook. He maintained his grip as he asked, “Did you happen to notice if she was being chased?”

Bob’s fingers twitched as he freed his hand. “No. Why would someone chase?”

“For her purse. It was stolen from the scene, you know.”

“Yes, I heard. Can you believe some people? I was on phone to emergency services when it happened, but my back was turn so I don’t see it. When I turn around and people tell me, I could not believe. I just stand there with mouth hanging open. I would have chased but he was gone.”

“So you never saw him?”

Bob shook his head. “Unfortunately I did not.”

“Why are you here?”

He looked a little sheepish. “Well, you know how it is . . . you help someone, you feel responsible. And because no one know her name . . . I don’t know . . . she become this mystery woman in my mind and I just think I look in on her until her family show up.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Eddie said.

Yeah, Jack thought. Very kind of strange.

Something about this guy wasn’t ringing true. First off, the name didn’t go with the accent.

“I am given to understand her name is Louise.”

Whoa.

“How do you understand that?” Jack said.

“I ask nurses if she still a Jane Doe. They tell me she is identified as Louise Myers.”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, that’s her. We’ve always called her Weezy.”

“Weezy,” Bob said with a slow smile. “That is nice.”

Fearing Eddie might offer his sister’s address and Social Security number and maybe even a dinner date next, Jack blurted, “Where can she get in touch with you, Bob? I’m sure she’ll want to thank you when she’s recovered.”

“Oh, that will not be necessary. I—”

Eddie said, “Oh, she’ll never forgive me if I didn’t get at least a phone number from you.”

“And an address,” Jack added. “In case she wants to send a thank-you note.”

Bob waved his hands. “It is not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is,” Jack said. “In fact, we insist.”

Bob hesitated, then sighed. “Okay. I do not have card—”

“No prob,” Jack said, showing him the blank back of the police report. “I’ve got paper and he’s got a pen.”

Eddie pulled a ballpoint from a breast pocket and handed it to Bob. They both watched him scribble an address and phone number.

“Well,” he said as he handed everything back, “I must go now, but it is pleasure meeting you and even better knowing that Louise’s family has finally found her.”

He walked to the door, then did a Columbo turn as he reached it.

“Oh, may I ask if she is New Yorker? Where does she live?”

“Montauk,” Jack said, stepping in front of Eddie. “Year round. I don’t know about you, but the isolation during the winter would drive me nuts. She loves it, though. Go figure.”

Bob smiled, nodded, and left.

“Montauk?” Eddie said. “She doesn’t—”

“I know.”

“Then why tell him that?”

“Because one good lie deserves another.”

Eddie looked baffled. “I don’t—”

“Because the only true thing he said was that he was glad to know that Louise’s family has found her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he stole Weez’s bag, or knows the guy who did.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? You’re beginning to sound like Weezy.”