The broadcast showed a live aerial view of our Coral Gables estate.

The camera zoomed in on the iron gates.

Two locksmiths were loading their tools back into a white van.

Victor was still there.

He had not left the driveway.

He was sitting on the low stone retaining wall near the mailbox.

His silk tie was undone, hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar.

His grey suit jacket was draped over his knees.

A news van pulled up to the curb, and a reporter stepped out with a microphone.

Victor did not even look up when the camera operator approached the gate.

He kept his head in his hands.

My phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with Victor’s name.

I let it ring until it went to voicemail.

Then I went into my settings and blocked his number.

I finished half of my sandwich and paid the bill in cash.

I caught a cab to the airport.

My flight to Seattle was scheduled for four o’clock.

By the time the plane reached cruising altitude, the cabin Wi-Fi was active.