under-age drinking…’ She shrugged. ‘It’s worth a try.’

As she reached out to make the call, her cell phone beeped with a text from Matt:

Cnt tlk – at scan. Xpect call frm mom re Louis Parry.

Louis Parry? Oh my God.

The disappearance of Louis Parry was the first case Orenda Bryce hadn’t solved. She was nine years old. Her fifteen-year-old brother, Beau, was Louis Parry’s piano teacher. Ren remembered that summer like a hazy image from a photo shoot; a pretty neighborhood filled with tanned children, frozen under the sun.

The police had returned missing children to their parents already that summer – kids who had stolen money from their mother’s pocketbooks to pay for the amusements in the park. The police thought Louis Parry was just like all the others, even though his mother tried to tell them her son was more thoughtful than that; he was a quiet boy, he liked nature, he liked music…But by the time the police started to listen to her, half of the first, precious forty- eight hours had been lost.

Ren had spent weeks looking for the sweet blond boy who used to call to the door with a shy smile and a folder of piano scores. She searched all the places that scared her – abandoned houses, crawl spaces, the woods, the railroad yard – just in case Louis Parry had wandered in there by mistake and that those places scared him even more.

Ren didn’t realize that someone could have taken Louis. She knew about strangers, never to accept a ride from them, but she never knew why. The world of Ren Bryce was safe and beautiful. And she thought Louis Parry’s was the same. But nothing anyone did brought Louis Parry home.

Until maybe now. The police must have finally found him. Heartbreaking.

Ren slid open her desk drawer and pulled out the deck of cards. She opened it and slid out the top card. It was the Ace of Hearts. At its center was the face of Louis Parry, wide-eyed and fragile. And printed underneath:

MISSING PERSON Louis Parry was last seen at 4.30 p.m.

on June 20th, 1981

on Main Street in Catskill, New York.

He was 10 years old, 4’ 5” and dressed in

red shorts and a yellow T-shirt.

If you have any information regarding this case,

please contact

New York State Crimestoppers…

The card featured in hundreds of cold-case decks that had been handed out three weeks earlier in Rikers Island in New York, in the hope that an inmate would recognize a victim, see something or hear something during a game of cards and call the confidential number.

During a game of cards.

Her cell phone rang.

She hit Answer. ‘Hi, Mom.’ There was silence at the other end. ‘Mom?’

Ren got up and went into the hallway. She pressed the phone to her ear. She heard a huge intake of breath and a desperate sob. ‘Oh, Ren. The police were just here. They’ve torn the house apart. It’s your brother, it’s —’

‘What? Matt?’

‘Beau,’ said her mom. ‘Beau.’

Ren’s stomach heaved. ‘Whoa, what? Beau? What the—’

‘It’s about Louis Parry. They think Beau had something to do with Louis Parry going missing.’

‘What? What are they talking about? Why?’

‘They mentioned something about cards being sent out to prisons – I didn’t understand any of that. All I know is that someone called some number—’

‘Mom, Mom,’ said Ren. ‘Calm down, OK? This is a mistake, that’s all. A very big mistake. The cards are cold- case playing cards. They’re handed out in prisons, to jog inmates’ memories while they’re playing poker or blackjack or whatever. The hope is that they might have heard someone talk about having committed one of the crimes. Then they can call Crimestoppers with the tip. All kinds of crazy people call Crimestoppers. For all kinds of reasons. A lot of times, the cops just have to follow up as a formality—’

‘You weren’t here. You haven’t seen what they’ve done. They are convinced Beau was involved. It’s like tearing his room apart was a formality.’

‘God, Mom. Beau didn’t do anything. We all know that.’

‘But Beau is dead, Ren. He’s dead. And I’m afraid they’re going to blame this on him for closure—’

‘They cannot do that,’ said Ren. ‘They need proof. And they will never find proof. They cannot find something that does not exist.’

‘I’m sick, Ren. I am physically sick. People are walking by…standing across the street. And what about the Parrys? What are they going to think? After all this time? Your father, your brothers and I were out looking for Louis—’

‘Mom, calm down or you will have a heart attack. The Parrys are good people—’

‘The Parrys are desperate people. These cards – whatever they are – are their last hope. Maybe a part of them wants to give up. Wants to take whatever means they can sleep at night.’

‘The Parrys are good people,’ Ren said again. ‘They really are. They wouldn’t—’

Her mother dropped the phone. Ren could hear it bounce across the floor.

‘Mom? Are you OK?’

‘I’m sorry. My hands are shaking. I’m a wreck…’

‘Where is Dad?’

‘At the gym.’

Ren rolled her eyes. ‘Did you call him?’

‘I got voicemail.’

‘Call someone, Mom, and get them to come over.’

Her mother let out a breath. ‘Is there anything you can do?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Ren. ‘You bet there is.’

Ren put the phone down. She could not move. She had reached a sub-setting of numb. For now, her mind was incapable of getting any further than Beau.

11

Ren breathed deeply until she was calm enough to speak.

‘Robbie, could you do me a favor, please?’ she said. ‘Would you mind asking Summit County to send over the files on that Gavino Val Pando bar raid?’

‘Sure, no problem.’

She Googled the number for the Catskill Police Department and punched it into her phone as she got up from her desk. The receptionist came on the line as Ren was shutting herself into the conference room.

‘My name is Ren Bryce. I’m with the FBI. Could I speak with the lieutenant please?’ Ren sat down in the far corner of the room.

‘Putting you through to Lieutenant Stroud…’

Whoa. ‘I’m sorry – which Stroud?’ said Ren.

‘That would be Lieutenant Daryl Stroud, ma’am.’

Ren hung up.

Daryl Stroud. This cannot be the person I have to deal with here. Daryl Stroud had witnessed Ren’s first full-blown manic meltdown. He was the low she rode out of Catskill on. Ren had been nineteen years old when she raised her hand to Daryl Stroud – her boyfriend of one year – to slap him across the

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