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that February. Just like today, she’d been lying around in bed and had switched the TV on with the remote. The screen had lit up with the image of a stately farmhouse set against the vivid greenery of a hillside. Then too, the time had been just after 9:00 a.m.
    Saeko remembered the program with astonishing clarity. The house was of a traditional Japanese architectural style, the kind you saw sometimes in mountain villages. The female reporter walked slowly up the gentle incline of the paved road in front of the house as she described the incident to the viewers.
    “Two weeks ago, a family of four vanished from this house in the suburbs of Takato.”
    Instantly, Saeko was riveted. The words penetrated deeply into her consciousness, rudely stirring up memories of the past: the chirping of cicada a vivid cascade, the steep stone stairs leading up to a shrine, the thick canopy of giant cedars forming a ceiling overhead, beams of blinding summer sun streaming down through the gaps …
    Interrupting Saeko’s memories, the female reporter had continued, holding a microphone in her left hand and pointing towards the house with her right, her face a mask of gravity: “The entire Fujimura family of four has disappeared from their home. They left dishes freshly washed in the kitchen, the table set with tea cups, the bathtub full of water, and the laundry machine full of clothes. There are no signs that the house has been ransacked. Everything here is perfectly normal, except that the house’s inhabitants are gone. Nobody has any idea why the Fujimuras would havedisappeared. They were well-to-do, as you can see. They had no debts, no ties to any religious cult. Their disappearance is an absolute mystery.”
    A relative of the family was shown making the standard remarks: she had no idea why the family had disappeared, and she prayed for their safe return. Then the female reporter reappeared.
    “We all hope the Fujimura family is safe.”
    From there, the show shifted abruptly into a story about two popular celebrities getting married. Saeko had lost interest and changed the station.
    For a while, the disappearance of the Fujimura family was featured on various TV gossip shows and magazine close-ups, but after about a month the media attention had waned. No new developments had come to light, and there simply wasn’t any material to support further coverage, even though public interest in the incident remained high and the entire nation was aware of the story.
    Time passed without the investigation making any headway, and before long, nearly ten months had transpired without anyone learning what had become of the Fujimuras.
    Saeko had never expected to become involved with the case. But that July, just half a year after the family’s disappearance, she had received a phone call from Maezono, chief editor of the
Sea Bird
monthly magazine at Azuka Press. Saeko knew Maezono wanted to offer her an assignment even before the meeting. From the tone she picked up on the phone, it was probably a substantial job. Maezono had even hinted at the possibility of serialization.
    At the front desk of Azuka Press the next day the receptionist buzzed Maezono’s office. When the large woman came waddling down the stairs, the first words out of her mouth were: “Let’s grab some lunch.”
    She invited Saeko to a nearby Italian restaurant. It was a trick of the trade—treat the contractor to a meal, then gently propose a deal over a full stomach. When they had finished eating and were sipping their postprandial coffees, Maezono finally got down to business.
    “It’s about the Fujimura family’s disappearance. You’ve heard of it, I assume?”
    “Of course.” Saeko’s response was immediate.
    “Well? Are you interested?” Maezono probed, not skipping a beat.
    Was she interested? To Saeko, nothing was as critical as a missing person case, and Maezono knew it.
    In response to Saeko’s silent stare, Maezono passed her a sheaf ofpapers.