they came to arrest him for Sandy’s murder, or to Sandy’s father, stating in family court that Jason Jones was not Clarissa Jane Jones’s biological father and thus should no longer be part of her life.
Ree put down her fork. “I’m full, Daddy.”
He glanced at her plate. “Four more bites of waffle, as you’re four years old.”
“No.” She hopped down from the bar stool. He caught her arm, frowning.
“Four bites, then you may be excused from the table.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
Jason blinked, set down his fork. “I’m your father, so yes, I am the boss of you.”
“No, Mommy is.”
“We both are.”
“No, only Mommy.”
“Clarissa Jane Jones, you may eat four bites of waffle, or you may sit on the timeout stair.”
Ree thrust her chin out at him. “I want Mommy.”
“Four bites.”
“Why did you yell at her? Why did you make her mad?”
“Back to your chair, Ree.”
She stomped her foot. “I want Mommy! She told me she’d come home. Mommy told me she wouldn’t leave me.”
“Ree…”
“Mommy goes to work, she comes home. She goes to the grocery store, she comes home. Mommy told me, she promised me, she’d always
Jason felt his chest tighten. Ree had gone through an attachment phase where she’d cried and carried on every time Sandy left. So Sandy had started a little game she’d read in some parenting book, always notifying Ree when she was leaving, and always hugging Ree first thing when she got home.
“Mommy’s going to put me to bed,” Ree said now, chin still sticking out obstinately. “It’s her job. You go to work, she puts me to bed. Go to work, Daddy. Go on. Leave!”
“Ree…”
“I don’t want you here anymore. You have to leave. If you leave, Mommy will come home. Go to work. You have to.”
“Ree…”
“Get out, get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re a big
“Clarissa Jane Jones.”
“Stop it, stop it!” She clapped her hands over her ears. “Stop yelling, I don’t want to hear you yelling.”
“I’m not yelling.” But his voice was rising.
His daughter continued as if she’d never heard him. “Angry feet, angry feet. I hear your mean feet on the stairs. Get out, get out, get out. I want Mommy! It’s not fair, it’s not fair.
Then his daughter twisted away from him and ran sobbing up the stairs.
Jason let her go. He listened as Ree stormed down the hall. He caught the distant boom as she slammed her door shut. Then he was left alone at the kitchen counter, with a half-eaten waffle and a heart full of regrets.
Day two of his wife’s disappearance and his daughter was falling to pieces.
He thought, in a spurt of ironic bitterness, that Sandy had better be dead or he’d kill her for this.
The police returned at exactly 8:45 P.M. Jason was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the family computer, which was no longer the family computer, when they pounded up the front steps.
He opened the door. Sergeant Warren led the charge.
She thrust the search warrant in front of his face, rattling off in rapid legalese where they were allowed to go and what they were allowed to seize. As he’d suspected, they would be taking the computer, as well as miscellaneous electronic devices, including but not limited to gaming devices, iPods, BlackBerries, and Palm Pilots.
“What are gaming devices?” he asked her, as uniformed officers and forensic techs poured into his house. Across the street, klieg lights were firing up as reporters caught the action and geared up for a fresh round of photo ops.
“Xbox, Gameboys, PlayStation 2, Wii system, etc., etc.”
“Ree has a Leapster,” he offered. “If you want my advice, the Cars game is better than the Disney Princess cartridge, but, of course, the evidence techs can judge for themselves.”
D.D. regarded him coolly. “The warrant gives us permission to seize all electronics we deem necessary, sir. So yes, we will judge for ourselves.”
The “sir” rankled him, but he let it go. “Ree’s asleep,” he found himself saying. “She’s had a very long day. If you could ask the officers to please keep things quiet…”
He strove for politeness, though maybe his voice hitched a little at the end. He’d had a long day, too, which was about to become a long night.
“We’re professionals,” the sergeant informed him stiffly. “We’re not gonna ransack your house. We’re going to take it apart piece by piece very politely.”
D.D. motioned a uniformed officer over. Officer Anzaldi, it appeared, had drawn the short straw and would be serving as Jason’s babysitter for the evening. The officer led him to the family room, where Jason took a seat on the love seat, much as he had done the day before. Except no Ree this time. No tiny warm body snuggled against him, needing him, grounding him, keeping him from screaming from the frustration of it all.
So Jason closed his eyes, put his hands behind his head, and went to sleep.
When he opened his eyes, forty-five minutes had passed and Sergeant D.D. Warren was staring down at him in quiet fury.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“Resting? Just like that? Your wife is missing, so you’re taking a
“It’s not like I’m going to find her while I’m being confined to a love seat, is it?”
D.D. appeared disgusted. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”
He shrugged. “Ask a SWAT guy sometime. What do you do once you’ve been activated but not yet deployed? You sleep. So when the time comes, you’re ready to go.”
“That’s how you view this? You’re some elite warrior who’s been activated, but not deployed?” She sounded dubious.
“My family is in crisis, and all I can do is stay with my daughter. Activated, but not deployed.”
“You could leave her with Grandpa.” The sergeant said the words neutrally, but there was a gleam in her eye. So she’d heard. Of course she’d heard. Apparently, all uniformed officers did these days was blab every detail of his life to Sergeant Warren.
“No thank you,” he said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like linen suits.”
But D.D. wasn’t going to be put off that easily. She took a seat directly across from him, resting her elbows on her knees, all casual curiosity. While from the kitchen came the sound of cupboard doors being opened, closed, drawers being pulled out and pushed in. He suspected the computer was already gone. The iPod seized from his nightstand drawer. Maybe they’d taken his clock radio, too. Every thing came with data chips these days, and any data chip could be rigged to store any kind of data. There’d been a major case just last year where a business exec had stored tons of incriminating financial docs on his son’s Xbox.
Jason had understood the terms of the search warrant just fine. He’d simply liked making the pretty blonde sergeant work for it.
“You said Sandy and her father were estranged,” D.D. stated now.
“True.”
“Why?”
“That would be Sandy’s story to tell.”
