Window shade had been pulled down. Lowered voices were reporting news. In the faint light coming from behind the open bathroom door, the baby was sleeping in the middle of the motel room’s double bed. On the baby’s left, the blue diaper bag. On the wall, a sketch of a 17th-century farm captioned PETER STUYVESANT’S FARM (THE BOWERY). Sitting on the baby’s right, Michelle propped her head against a pillow. Her right ear was cocked to the quiet voice coming from the radio on the bed table a foot away. It was reporting Middle East events. Sitting on the bed’s edge, Paul’s eyes were on the TV reporter quietly delivering a recap of European news. At Paul’s feet was his bag. Behind the TV a larger sketch of a peg-legged man captioned PETER STUYVESANT, GOVERNOR OF NEW NETHERLANDS 1647–1664. The radio voice stopped. A second later: “More complications for wife of shooting victim Frankie Troy shortly before midnight last night.” Paul darted to the radio, dropping to both knees.
