Holly answered.
“It’s Greg again.”
“Hi, Greg. Any word?”
“No.”
“You know a search has started? Nate’s gone to Walmart to help organize.”
“Yes, I’m heading to Ripplewood. Holly, the situation is, well, more people know now, but I don’t want Jake to learn about this from anyone until I’m ready to tell him. I’m hoping it will be sorted out soon. If not—” Greg stopped, unable to remove the dread in his voice, the underlying tone of a man flailing, trying to delay the inevitable. “If not, I’ll tell Jake later today when he comes home.”
“Of course, I understand.”
“Listen, Holly, I’m sorry to impose but I was wondering if you would take the boys to the Falls for the day, to the arcade, go-karts, and maybe to a movie and pizza, all on me? I need more time, you know?”
“Yes, of course. It’s no imposition. I’ll do whatever I can. We’re all praying for you, for Jake, for Jenn.”
“Thank you, Holly. I can’t tell you how much this means right now. Is Jake near you?”
“No, the boys are downstairs having cereal and playing a video game.”
“Could I talk to Jake?”
“Hold on.”
In the muffling, he heard Holly calling for Jake, then the thud of running, then his son’s breathless voice. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey pal, you having fun?”
“Yup, two more levels and I slay the demon!”
“All right. Good luck.”
“Carter already got the demon once.”
“Very cool.”
“Dad, can I stay a little longer before Mom comes to get me?”
“Well, I think Carter’s mom’s got a surprise for you guys.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure, but you could be in line for some major fun today. Guess that means you get to hang with Carter longer, and I’ll get you when you’re all done later today.”
“Can you tell me the surprise? Am I getting the drone I wanted? A cell phone?”
“No, nothing like that. Carter’s mom will tell you. Just be safe and have fun, okay?”
“Okay, Dad. Is Mom there?”
Greg hesitated, something caught in his throat.
“No, son, I’m sorry. She’s not home right now. You have fun, okay?”
“Okay. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too. Bye, son.”
Greg stood there, inhaled a breath, let it out, then went to the fridge door where Jenn’s business information was on a magnet shaped like eyeglasses. He tapped a number into his phone. His call rang to the recorded message for Crystallo View Optical. He pressed the prompts and left a message:
“This is Greg Griffin, Jennifer Griffin’s husband. Jennifer won’t be in today because—uh—because by the time you get this message, you’ll likely know that, she’s, uh, she’s missing. If you hear from her you can reach me at...” Greg left his number then turned to Kat and Vince.
“Let’s go look for Jenn.”
Seven
Buffalo, New York, Ripplewood Creek
They took Kat’s Jeep.
She drove. Vince was in the passenger seat.
Greg sat in the back, watching his neighborhood rolling by—joggers, dog walkers, neighbors talking in driveways, life going on while his world had come to a dead stop. Jenn looked at him from her picture on his phone. His stomach knotted with the undeniable fear that she’d been abducted, assaulted, left for dead.
And where was I last night?
At a freakin’ bar.
Greg tingled with shame before his father spoke.
“It has to be a breakdown,” Vince said, scanning the houses along Taconic before they headed west on Sentinel. “Her Corolla broke down somewhere.”
Biting her lip, Kat nodded and said: “Or some simple explanation.” Then Kat found Greg in her rearview mirror and continued. “That’s what I think. She’ll emerge with a simple explanation.”
Greg returned Kat’s gaze.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kat’s attention went to the road then flicked back to the mirror at Greg.
“I know we’re going to find her.”
“You think so?”
“I do, Greg.”
Nodding, he turned away, his heart lifted by Kat’s support. But to some extent he was mistrusting of it because he knew that deep down, Kat held hard feelings for Jenn.
He looked out at the commercial strip. A lifetime had passed since he’d driven up and down Sentinel, looking for Jenn throughout the night. Now, in the light of a new day, there was more traffic and activity.
“Look.” Kat pointed at Walmart. “That’s one of the search groups. Want to stop?”
In a far corner of the parking lot, a few cars were parked and people were gathered at a table with an orange flag. Greg was encouraged.
“Nate Wiley’s group,” Greg said, scrolling through recent texts, including one from Liz Miller. “No, don’t stop. Let’s get to Ripplewood. That’s where the women from Jenn’s book club will be.”
They traveled the section of Sentinel Trail that separated Noble Haven and Trailside Grove before it evolved into Bluebird Park. In the bright morning sun, Greg considered the thick forests of the park, its trails, streams and rugged terrain, but not for long because when they reached the exit for Ripplewood Creek, his phone rang.
Al Clayton was calling from the Pine Castle job site.
“I just heard. Damn, why didn’t you tell me about Jenn this morning?”
“I’m still processing everything.”
“What could’ve happened to her?”
“I don’t know, Al.”
“And police are on it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay listen. I was talking to the guys. We’ll shut things down here and help look for her.”
“No. Don’t,” Greg said. “We’re joining a search right now.”
“You’re sure you don’t want more people?”
“Yes, thanks, but we’ve got lots of help. Al, we have to keep the job going. We have to meet the deadlines.”