But now even West Eighty-eighth Street was quiet. Quiet as a grave, Alex thought.

He sat on the sofa and told himself this was the ideal time to cry, when his sisters couldn't see him. He knew there was no shame in crying. Papi had sobbed the day Carlos went off to boot camp. He'd cried just the other day when he heard Nana had died. But Alex didn't shed a single tear. Maybe it was just too quiet to cry.

He spotted the transistor radio, put the C batteries in it, and spun the dial until he got a New York station. It was good to know it was on the air, even if all the news being broadcast was horrible.

"A telephone hotline has been set up for assistance in locating missing New York City family members," the woman on the radio said. "If one of your family has been missing since Wednesday night, call 212-555-CITY. That's 212-555-2489."

A phone number. Did that mean the phones were working? Alex turned off the radio and picked up the telephone. Sure enough, there was a dial tone.

His hand shook almost uncontrollably as he dialed the hospital number. Could it be he'd find his mother alive and well in just a matter of moments? He pictured Bri's and Julie's reactions when he told them the good news.

"You have reached St. John of God Hospital. For patient information, press 1…"

Alex held for further assistance, figuring someone there could help him track Mami down. But hearing music on the other end of the line was surreal. Alex listened to one song, then another, a third, and a fourth —treacly ballads, the kind Bri liked. By the seventh song, Alex wondered how much longer he'd be forced to listen. By the twelfth, he imagined Mami walking in—while he remained on hold.

In the middle of the fifteenth song, a woman's voice said, "St. John of God Hospital."

Alex's heart pounded. "Hi," he said, trying to sound calm. "My mother, her name is Isabella Morales, works as an operating room technician at St. John of God. I'm calling to see if I can speak to her."

"Impossible," the woman said. "We're keeping our lines open for emergencies. No personal calls are allowed."

"All right," Alex said, terrified that the woman might hang up on him. "I don't really need to talk to her. I just need to make sure that she's all right. She was called in Wednesday night. Can you find out if she's there, if she's working?"

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "I have no way of knowing what personnel is on duty right now."

"But someone at the hospital must know," Alex said. "She would have taken the subway around nine-thirty Wednesday night. We haven't heard from her since."

"I understand," the woman said. "But it's chaos here, and it has been since Wednesday. Everyone is working twenty-four-hour shifts. I haven't been home since Wednesday, either. I can't stop to look around for your mother."

"There's no one you can transfer me to?" Alex asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Someone in the surgical department?"

"They're not taking phone calls," the woman said. "And I really can't stay on the phone with you."

"Just one more question, please," Alex begged. "Have your phones been on for a while? Have people been able to make calls out?"

"We got phone service back yesterday afternoon," the woman said. She was silent for a moment. "I'll pray for you and your mother," she said. "Her name is Isabella Morales?"

"Yes, that's right," Alex replied.

"Give me your phone number," she said. "If I find someone who knows anything about her, I'll call."

"Thank you," Alex said. "Thank you so much." He gave the woman his phone number, and only after he heard the sound of the phone on the other end hanging up did he put the phone down.

They'd had phone service yesterday. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, Mami must have had the chance to call home. Alex picked up the phone and dialed for voice mail. No new messages. Just to be sure, he pressed 1 anyway, but there weren't any saved messages, either.

Mami would have called. Somehow she would have found the time.

Maybe she'd called Uncle Jimmy. He dialed the number and Aunt Lorraine answered.

"Hi," he said. "It's Alex. How are things going?"

"How do you expect things to be going?" Aunt Lorraine replied. "The world is coming to an end. My babies will never live to have babies of their own. God has turned His back on us, and you ask how things are going?"

Alex waited until he was sure she'd finished. "Bri and Julie and I were in church this morning, so there was no one home if anyone called," he said. "We haven't heard from Mami since Wednesday. Has she called you?"

"I went to church but Jimmy didn't," Aunt Lorraine said. "Wait, I'll ask him. Jimmy! Did you hear from Isabella this morning? It's Alex. Isabella's missing."

"I didn't say she was missing," Alex said, but it didn't matter. Jimmy took the phone from his wife.

"Alex," he said. "Isabella's missing?"

"I don't know that she's missing," Alex said. "She went to the hospital on Wednesday, and we haven't heard from her since. I just called the hospital, and they have no way of knowing who's there, so it could be she's been there since Wednesday and just hasn't been able to call."

"We haven't heard from her," Jimmy said. "Is your father back?"

"No," Alex said. "But he called when we were at the bodega. Bri spoke to him."

"What did he say?" Jimmy asked.

He didn't say anything, Alex thought, and it might not have been him anyway. But Jimmy had concerns of his own, and Alex was man of the house. "It wasn't a great connection," he said. "Bri couldn't make out much."

"But he called, so he must be okay," Jimmy said. "What about Carlos?"

Alex was relieved he could be honest. "I spoke to him Thursday," he said. "His unit's been deployed, but he's okay."

"Great, that's great," Jimmy said. "Luis and Carlos are all right," he yelled to Lorraine. "No word from Isabella, though."

"We'll probably hear from her before you do," Alex said. "I just wanted to find out if you'd spoken to her."

"No," Jimmy said. "Look, Alex, you okay? You looking after your sisters okay? You want to send them to us until Luis or Isabella gets back?"

Alex decided against it. Julie and Lorraine didn't get along that well, and Bri would be happier at home.

"No, we're fine," Alex said. "Thanks anyway."

"All right," Jimmy said. "Take care now. We'll be praying for all of you. And when you hear from Isabella, call us."

"Sure will," Alex said, and hung up. He walked back to the sofa and thought about making a list, putting in a neat format the arguments for and against his mother still being alive.

He looked at his watch. It was close to two o'clock, and there was no way of knowing when his sisters might get back. If he was going to do any more calling, he couldn't wait.

212-555-CITY.

"You have reached the New York City Emergency Hotline for family members of missing, presumed dead, New York City residents. If your missing family member is a man, press one. If it is a woman, press two. For children under the age of twelve, press three."

Alex almost pressed one for his father, but then realized New York City would have no way of knowing what had happened in Milagro del Mar. He pressed two.

"The following information is only for family members of female residents of New York City who have been missing since Wednesday night, May eighteenth," a woman's voice intoned. "If you are the family member of a missing New York City woman, press one."

Alex pressed one.

"If your family member is missing from Brooklyn or Staten Island, press one. If she is missing from Manhattan, the Bronx, or Queens, press two."

Alex pressed two.

"The bodies of unidentified women are being held at Yankee Stadium," the voice continued. "If you wish to go to Yankee Stadium to search for your missing family member, press one."