The next one was from Sharon's mother, Annette. 'I got your email. Where are you going? Is it a business trip?'
Ronni Keating from SKBK Sotheby's was wondering if they were interested in selling their house. She had a potential buyer.
A TruGreen salesman started his pitch and Ray hit the skip button.
He heard a man's voice say, 'Hey, babe, you there? Call me.'
Ray didn't recognize the voice. He played it back and wrote down the number, a 586 area code, which meant it came from somewhere on the east side.
According to the dates on the answering machine, Sharon hadn't checked the messages for three days. And that was unusual, she'd get up from the dinner table when the phone rang just to see if she was missing an important call.
Ray tried Sharon's cell number. It went right to voice mail: 'This is Sharon, please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.'
He went into the bedroom and looked around. The bed was made, six pillows, two rows of three lined up across the headboard. Her reading glasses were on the table on her side of the bed. He checked her closet, scanned her clothes, shoes and purses. The shelves were full. Nothing seemed to be missing. Not that he could tell with any certainty if anything was. He went in the bathroom and saw her toothbrush on the counter in a ceramic cup, makeup brushes next to it in a clay bowl. No woman would leave town without her makeup. He knew that much.
He went out to the garage and opened the side door and looked in. Her car, a silver Honda Accord, was gone. He went back in the kitchen, opened the Verizon bill, checking the list of phone numbers. Thirty calls, he counted them, were to a number with a 586 area code in Harrison Township. It was different than the one he'd copied from the answering machine.
He called Jim Teegarden, an old friend who was still with the Service, the Office of Protective Research, OPR, in downtown Detroit. Teeg and his colleagues gathered intelligence about individuals or groups who might pose a threat to the president, vice president or any other high-level protectee. Their paths had crossed on a number of occasions over the years when Ray was on protective detail.
Teeg was a devout Catholic, and one night over drinks he told Ray his surname was sacrilegious. There's only one Pope and he's in Rome. I think you should change your name to Cardinal or Bishop. He said it with such conviction Ray thought he was serious until Teeg started laughing.
Ray said, 'You Catholics sure have a wicked sense of humor, don't you?'
'I'm sorry to hear about what happened,' Teegarden said.
Ray said, 'Don't be. It's a blessing in disguise. I'd had enough.'
'Why didn't you stay on, take a job with uniform?'
'Wear one of those fancy outfits, and guard a foreign embassy, you think that sounds like me?'
'You always did have an interesting way of looking at things,' Teegarden said. 'What's Sharon think, having you home all the time now?'
'Are you kidding? She loves it,' Ray said. 'Hey, I'm hoping you can help me out with something. Some guy's been calling Sharon, stalking her. I've got the phone number but I need the name and address.'
'Why don't you call the police?'
'You know how it works,' Ray said. 'They won't do anything till a crime's been committed. I'd rather not wait that long.'
'All right. What's the number?'
Ray said, 'There are two.'
Chapter Eleven
Kathy Keating, a cute blonde from Chicago he barely knew, said, 'Are you all right?' Looking concerned. Like he had inoperable cancer. She was standing at the front desk, talking to Canzio. He was sitting in a chair behind the desk in the school lobby. Canzio was about five six, a Roman with a Caesar haircut and long sideburns, Chip thought he looked like an extra in a spaghetti western.
'We're so glad you're safe,' said Beth, a pale dark-haired goth from Boston he'd seen around the BU campus. She was shuffling through her mail.
Chip glanced at Brianna. 'What's going on?'
Brianna shrugged and shook her head. Trish walked through the lobby and didn't say anything to anyone, still angry McCabe didn't go with them.
'Dude, what's good?' said Cody Gorman, a six-foot-four surfer from Huntington Beach, California. 'Where you been?'
'Messina,' Chip said.
'Bitchin',' Cody said. 'Catch any sick waves, or was it mush?'
'Mushburger, dude,' Chip said, using one of the five words of surfer slang Cody had taught him.
Canzio stood up and said, 'Signor Chip, I am so glad to see you. Are you all right? I must notify Signor Rady at once.'
He picked up the phone, punched in a number.
'Signor Tallenger has return.' He listened. 'Young Signor Tallenger. Si, just now.'
He hung up the phone, glanced up at Chip.
'Signor Rady say to tell you he will be right here.'
'For what?' Chip said. What was going on?
Canzio said, 'To see you. Are you hurt?'
'Why would I be hurt?' It was really getting crazy.
Canzio said, 'Do you need medical attention?'
'No, I need my mail.'
Canzio said, 'Yes, of course.' He turned and took three envelopes out of Chip's mail slot and handed them to him.
Frank Rady appeared now, entering the lobby, walking fast, coming toward him.
'I called your father. He's on his way. We never gave up hope. '
'We went to Messina,' Chip said. 'Spent the weekend on the beach.'
His dad, Mr Rady and the Rome cop, Captain Ferrara, all had their eyes glued to him, staring with somber expressions. They were sitting at a small round table in Rady's office, and Chip felt claustrophobic. He moved his chair back to give himself more room.
Rady said, 'Why didn't you sign out? You know it's mandatory, school policy.'
He was trying to deflect any blame, cover his ass.
'I did,' Chip said.
'What're you talking about?' his dad said. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt with his initials, CET, Charles Erickson Tallenger, on the right cuff, as always. Erickson was Chip's grandmother's maiden name.
'When students leave campus for an extended period of time — weekends included — they're supposed to fill out a form and give it to whoever’s at the front desk,' Frank Rady said. 'So we know where our students are going, where they're at.'
'I gave it to Franco,' Chip said. 'Thursday through Sunday — Messina, Sicily.'
'We have no record of it,' Rady said.
There was no record because Chip forgot to do it. His word against Franco's. Who were they going to believe?
'We tried your cell phone,' his dad said.
'I misplaced it,' Chip said.
'You misplaced it, or lost it? What's that, the third one this year?'
