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Dante felt shaken. His memory shattered like broken glass. Only a sensation remained, one of dread. “He was mean, that’s all.”
“Do you remember anything about the man who kidnapped you from the festival?”
“No. I didn’t even remember that happened.”
“Okay. As I say, Renzo’s dead, and his soul will be judged by God. I’m searching for the man who kidnapped you and anyone who paid him. I believe I can find them and bring them to justice.”
Dante’s head was spinning. “But my mother? And father? Where are they?”
“I don’t know, because we don’t know whoyouare. We don’t have your last name because your medical records are missing. We suspect that was Renzo’s doing, too.”
“Oh no,” Dante said, bewildered.
“But I have a way to find out your identity, so we can find your parents and get you home. Now—”
“Home?” Dante turned to Baron Pisani. “What about Lucia? She’s still not back, and I can’t leave without her.”
Baron Pisani nodded. “Dante, we’ll take things one step at a time. I’m overseeing the construction of a new madhouse, not far from here. I designed it myself, and those are the plans.” He pointed to a drawing of a building, tacked to the wall. “This will be the Real Casa dei Matti di Palermo, the Royal Madhouse of Palermo. I’ll put into practice my principles of moral therapy to treat mental illnesses. Most of the patients have already been transferred there, and this madhouse will be shut down.”
“But if I leave before Lucia comes back, she won’t know how to find me.”
“I don’t expect she’ll come back so soon.” Baron Pisani looked earnest. “I hope you’ll come with me to the new madhouse, where I’ll make sure you get the best treatment. I can help you heal from what living here has done to you. Or, you can also choose to go home to your parents.”
Dante tried to absorb the information. “I don’t know what to do yet.”
“That’s fine.” Dr. Pisani nodded. “Now, would you like to try and find out your last name, and who your parents are?”
“Yes,” Dante said, nervous.
Baron Pisani gestured to Gaetano. “Gaetano, take it from here?”
“Yes, thank you.” Gaetano pulled a stack of papers from a leather envelope. “I have a list of the parents of the boys named Dante during the relevant time period, which I took from baptismal records. I’m hoping you’ll recognize one of these names.”
“I can’t read.”
“I know, I’m going to read them to you. Shall we? Here’s the first one. ‘Dante DiGiuseppe. Father, Fabiano DiGiuseppe, and mother, Laura Pantera.’ ”
Dante shook his head, no.
“ ‘Dante Messina. Father, Michele Messina, and mother, Mellina Palumbo.’ ”
Dante shook his head again, no, and Gaetano read the next set of parents, then the next.
They came to the third page, and Gaetano read, “ ‘Dante Michangeli. Father, Adamo Michangeli, and mother, Vera Catena.’ ”
Michangeli.Dante raised his hand, without knowing why.
Gaetano stopped. “What?”
Dante’s mouth went dry. “Would you read it again?”
“ ‘Dante Michangeli. Father, Adamo Michangeli, and mother, Vera Catena.’ ”
Dante knew the names. Herecognizedthem. They were the names of his parents. His lips parted, but he didn’t know what to say. His throat was so tight he couldn’t speak.
“Dante?” Gaetano touched his arm, excited. “Is that them? Is thatyou?”
“Yes!” Dante answered, with conviction. His own name resonated in his chest. Tears filled his eyes. “I’m... Dante Michangeli!”
