***
Jen let herself into the apartment and shut the door behind her, automatically locking it. The apartment was silent. Brandon’s probably over at Ada’s, she thought. She considered getting out of her clothes and drawing a hot bath before calling him, then changed her mind and went to the phone instead. She dialed Ada’s number. After the twelfth ring, she hung up, worried. It wasn’t like Ada to take Brandon anywhere when she knew Jen was due home, at least not without leaving a note on the door.
She lifted the lid from an empty sugar bowl on top of the refrigerator and fished out the key to Ada’s apartment. She replaced the bowl and was turning to leave when she heard a noise. It was a faint sound that seemed to come from Brandon’s room. Maybe he was home after all and sleeping.
His bed was empty, as was the room. Jen stood in the doorway, puzzled. She had been certain the noise came from this room. It had sounded like a little squeak or high-pitched groan, like someone might make in his sleep.
“Maybe we’ve got mice,” she mumbled to herself, “or ghosts.”
She was turning to leave when she heard it again. It came from the floor on the other side of the bed. This time there was no mistaking it as anything other than a groan, and she hurried across the room and around the bed.
Ada lay face down on the floor. She groaned again and tried to move. Jen squatted beside her and felt her pulse. It was fast, but it was steady and strong. There was blood on the back of her head. For one second too long Jen was puzzled, wondering how Ada could have struck the back of her head when she had fallen forward. Then she realized Ada had not fallen but had been knocked down.
She started to rise, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She tried to turn, at the same time bringing her hands up in a position of self-defense, but she was too slow. She saw a metal flashlight moving toward her, as if in slow motion, and the world went black.
***
Brandon was worried. He had been at the restaurant for almost an hour, and still there was no sign of his mother or Will. The dinner reservations had been for six-thirty; it was now almost a quarter after seven. He knew his mother would have called if she could and was afraid that she had been in an accident.
He fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the apartment. He let it ring twenty times before hanging up and dialing Ada’s number. Again he listened as the phone rang and rang. As he hung up, he felt tears coming to his eyes and blinked them back. This was no time to act like a baby.
He pressed the speed dial number his mother had programmed into the phone for the police department’s non-emergency number. The man who answered identified himself as Dispatcher Marshall. He sounded harassed, and Brandon knew it must be a busy night.
“Hello,” he said politely. “My name is Brandon Dillon. My mother works there, Jen Dillon, and I was supposed to meet her tonight at the Oxbow. She hasn’t showed up, and I was wondering if maybe she’s still there?”
He held his breath, waiting for the officer to tell him the bad news.
“Jen? No, she’s not here. I saw her and Al Williams walking out the door at least forty-five minutes ago.”
“What about Agent Anderson? Is he there?” Brandon was puzzled. Why would his mom be with Al if she and Will were meeting him at the Oxbow?
“No, he’s gone, too. He had an emergency call, something about his little girl, and he took off for the hospital a couple of hours ago.”
“Oh.” Brandon hoped nothing had happened to Lisa. Christina, either, of course. “Could I speak to Officer Hensley?”
“Vic? He won’t be in till ten-thirty tonight. You want me to give him a message?”
“Ten-thirty? But he’s the officer who called and told me to meet Mom and Will here. Are you sure he’s not working?”
Brandon was starting to get scared. If Officer Hensley wasn’t there, who had called him and where was his mother?
“I’m positive. He’s not here.”
“Thank you,” Brandon said and hung up. Something was very, very wrong, and he knew he had to get home as soon as possible.
He hit the button to display his call log and scrolled down to the number he’d called earlier to order a cab. Then he paid the waitress for his Coke and went outside to wait in the shelter of the doorway.
***
“It’s been cut.” Will looked at Joe Woods and held up the end of the severed telephone line. “Somebody’s cut the damn thing.”
Joe squatted beside Will and looked at the line. A light rain had begun to fall, and Joe turned the collar of his jacket up in protection against it.
“I don’t get it. Why would somebody cut our phone line?”
“To keep me from finding out that Christina was all right.” Will stood. “Or more to the point, to keep me busy chasing my tail. Tell the kids goodbye for me.”
He ran to the car. Five miles from Gloria and Joe’s house, he was finally able to get reliable cell reception, and he pressed the speed dial number he’d assigned to Jen’s cell. When it rolled to voicemail, he disconnected and pressed the speed dial number he’d assigned to her landline. There was no answer
