Where Are You Now?

Larry Ahearn caught the bleak expression on Gregg’s face. “I don’t think we need to hear it again, Roy.”

“What happens now?” Gregg asked him. “If you decide Leesey did leave voluntarily, do you give up looking for her?”

“No,” Ahearn said emphatically. “Not for one minute. Knowing Leesey as well as I do, even if she disappeared on her own, something is terribly wrong. We’re staying on this 24/7 until we find her.”

“Thank God for that.” There’s something else I need to ask them, Gregg thought. Oh, I know. “How about the media? Are you going to tell them that she’s contacted us?”

“We don’t want anyone to know,” Larry said, shaking his head. “That was the first thing I told your father when we spoke to him.”

“You told me the same thing, but I thought you meant you wanted to be sure it wasn’t a crank call, or someone just imitating Leesey’s voice.”

“Gregg, we don’t want a hint of this to get out,” Larry Ahearn said urgently. “Awful as this is, it’s good to know that as of a few hours ago Leesey was alive.”

“I guess I agree. But where is she if she’s alive? What may be happening to her? The other young women who disappeared after being at one of those clubs in SoHo were never found.”

“But neither did any of them call a member of the family, Gregg,” Ahearn reminded him.

“Dr. Andrews, there’s something else…” Barrott began.

“Make it Gregg, please.” A hint of a smile crossed Gregg Andrews’s lips. “After I got my M.D., if anyone called me at home and asked for Dr. Andrews, it took Leesey months before she didn’t automatically hand the phone to my father.”

Barrott smiled briefly. “That’s the way it is in my house. If my son gets great marks or some kind of achievement award, his sister thinks it was a mistake. All right, Gregg,” he continued, “the last time you saw your sister was a week ago on Mother’s Day. Was there anything unusual about that day?”

“That’s what absolutely bewilders me,” Gregg told him. “My mother’s been dead only two years, so naturally it’s a pretty low-key day for us. The three of us went to church together, visited her grave, then had di

“Before your mother died, was Mother’s Day in any way symbolic for all of you, other than the usual sentiment that’s attached to it?”

“No, not at all. We celebrated it together, but it wasn’t a big deal. When my grandparents were alive, they were with us. There was nothing extraordinary at all about it.” Gregg caught the way the two detectives glanced at each other and then the way Larry Ahearn nodded to Roy Barrott. “There’s something you haven’t told me,” he said. “What is it?”

“Gregg, do you know Carolyn MacKenzie?” Ahearn asked.

Now his temples were begi

“She’s a lawyer,” Ahearn volunteered. “Twenty-six years old. Her studio is on Thompson Street in the building next door to where your sister lives.”

“Does she know Leesey?” Gregg asked quickly. “Does she have any idea where she might be?”

“No. She doesn’t know her, but maybe you remember a case ten years ago, when a college student walked out of his apartment and disappeared? His name was Charles MacKenzie Jr. Everyone called him Mack.”

“I remember that case. They never found him, did they?”

“No,” Ahearn said. “But he calls his mother every year on Mother’s Day.”

“On Mother’s Day!” Gregg jumped up. “He’s been gone ten years and calls his mother on Mother’s Day. Are you suggesting that Leesey might be pla

“Gregg, we’re not suggesting anything,” Ahearn said, soothingly. “Leesey was eleven years old when Mack MacKenzie disappeared, so there’s no reason to think that she might have known him. But we thought it’s possible you or your father might know the family. My guess is that you travel in some of the same circles.”

“Whatever that means.” He looked perplexed. “Did Mack MacKenzie call his mother last Sunday?”

“Yes, he did.” Ahearn decided not to immediately share the fact that Mack had left a message in the collection basket. “We don’t know what that guy is doing or why he had to go underground. It certainly isn’t widespread knowledge that he still phones his family on that one day. It makes us wonder if at some point Leesey might have met him, maybe at one of those clubs in SoHo, and, if she decided to disappear on her own, as he seems to have done, whether she’ll stay in touch the same way.”

“What do you know about MacKenzie, Larry? I mean if he disappeared voluntarily, was he in some kind of trouble?” Gregg looked pointedly at Larry, searching for answers.

“We couldn’t find anything that added up. He had everything going for him and just walked out of his life.”

“The same thing could be said about Leesey,” Gregg snapped. “Are you starting to think that if she’s come across this guy, the next time we’ll hear from her is Mother’s Day next year?” He looked from one to the other of them. “Wait a minute, do you think that this Mack guy might be a weirdo and has something to do with Leesey’s disappearance?”

Larry looked across the table at his college roommate. It’s not just his father who aged this week, he thought. Gregg looks ten years older than he did when we played golf last month. “Gregg, we are exploring everyone and every situation that may give us a lead to follow. Most of them will be dead ends. Now do me a favor and take my advice. Go home, get a decent di

Not unlike the advice I gave Dad, Gregg thought. I will go home. I will get a couple of hours sleep and eat something. But tonight I’m going to walk back and forth between that SoHo club and Thompson Street. Leesey was alive this morning. But that doesn’t mean that if she’s with some kind of nut, she’ll stay alive.

He pushed back his chair and stood up. “You’re absolutely right, Larry,” he said.

With a brief wave, he started to leave, but spun around when Ahearn’s cell phone rang. Ahearn grabbed it from his pocket and raised it to his ear. “What’s up?”

Gregg saw the angry frown before he heard Larry’s muttered profanity. For the second time that day, he despairingly thought that Leesey’s body had been found.

Ahearn looked at him. “Someone called the New York Post a few minutes ago and said that Leesey Andrews left a message for her father today and said she’d call again on Mother’s Day. The Post wants confirmation.” Spitting out the words, he shouted, “Absolutely no comment!” and slammed down the phone.

“Did Leesey make the call?” Gregg demanded.

“The reporter who took it couldn’t be sure. Said it was a muffled whisper. There was no caller ID.”

“That means that the call wasn’t made from Leesey’s phone,” Gregg said. “She has caller ID.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Gregg, I’m going to be brutally honest. Either Leesey had some kind of breakdown and wants publicity, or she’s in the hands of a dangerous, game-playing nut.”

“Who only calls home on Mother’s Day,” Roy Barrott said quietly.

“Or who has a loft apartment near the Woodshed and a longtime chauffeur who would do anything for him,” Ahearn said bitterly.