“How can I help?” I said.

“You are lawyer.”

“That’s right.”

“You represent fools.”

“I represent people accused of crimes.”

“Fools.”

“Some are, yes.”

“Good. Then you are just man I need.” She raised a finger and gestured me close, closer. “I have son,” she said softly. “Charles. I love him very much, but he is great fool.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “Now I see. Has Charles been accused of a crime?”

“Has been accused of everything.”

“Is he in jail now?”

“No, Victor. He not in jail. Fifteen years ago he was arrested for things, too many things to even remember. Mostly stealing, but also threatening and extinction.”

“Extortion?”

“Maybe that, too. And talking with others about doing it all.”

“Conspiracy.”

“He was going to trial. He needed money to stay out of jail.”

“Bail?”

“Yes. So, like idiot, I put up house. The day after he left prison, he disappeared. My Charles, he ran away. It took me ten years to get back house for Thalassa. Ten years of breaking my back. And since he ran, I haven’t once seen his face.”

“What can I do to help him?”

“Bring him home. Bring him to his mother. Let him say good-bye.”

“I’m sure he could come and say good-bye. It’s been a long time. He’s way off the authorities’ radar.”

“You think? Go to window, Victor. Look onto street.”

I did as she told, gently opened the curtain, pulled the shade aside. Light streamed in as I peered outside.

“Do you see it, a van?”

“Yes.” It was battered and white, with a raw brown streak of rust on its side. “I see it.”

“FBI.”

“It looks empty to me, Mrs. Kalakos.”

“FBI, Victor. They are still hunting for my son.”

“After all these years?”

“They know I am sick, they are expecting him to come. My phone, it is tapped. My mail, it is read. And the van, it is there every day.”

“Let me check it out,” I said.