I extended my stay, and my car rental, for a week. That would give me enough time to get to know Maya, to peer through any holes in her story firsthand if there were any. It also gave me a little wiggle room to hear back from my private investigator. By then I would know what I could or be willing to do for my birth mother and half-sibling. I employed sunglasses and hats if I had to get around in public, which I had been able to avoid thanks to a dedicated concierge who would get anything for me I couldn’t get for myself… including said hat and sunglasses. This disguise allowed me to escape beyond the glitz and commotion of the Strip. By the time I reached Maya’s house that afternoon, I was laden with a few bags that might have been inadvisable for me to bring, but I couldn’t go back to that run-down little house in that scary neighborhood without doing something, anything, to alleviate the suffering. Maya was surprised that I returned.
