The Stranger

No reason to ask for confirmation. The county dicks could chase that down. “So what happened?”

“I parked in the driveway.” His voice was flat and very far away somehow, beyond detached. “I opened the door with my key. I called out to Heidi—I knew she was home because her car was there. I walked into the den and . . .” Marty’s face twisted into something barely human and then collapsed into something all too human.

Normally, Joha

He tried to regain his composure.

“Is anything missing?”

“What?”

“Like in a robbery.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t see anything missing. But I didn’t really look.”

A robbery, she knew, was unlikely. The contents of the house didn’t have a lot of value, for one thing. For another, Heidi’s engagement ring, which Joha

“Marty?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s the first person to pop into your head?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who might have done this?”

Marty stopped and thought about it. Then his face twisted up again. “You know my Heidi, Joha

Know. Still using the present tense.

“She doesn’t have an enemy in the world.”

Joha

“I am.” He let out a moan. “Oh my God, I have to tell Kimberly and the boys. How am I going to tell them?”

“I can help with that, if you’d like.”

Marty leapt on that like onto a lifeboat. “Would you?” He was a nice guy, Joha

“The kids adore you, you know. So did Heidi. She’d want you to be the one.”

Joha

“What? You mean, anything like this?”

“I mean, anything like anything. Have you gotten any frightening calls? Did Heidi get in an argument with someone at Macy’s? Did someone cut her off in traffic on 271? Did she give someone the finger when they cut the line at Jack’s? Anything.”

He slowly shook his head.

“Come on, Marty. Think.”

“Nothing,” he said. He looked up at her, his face lined with anguish. “I got nothing.”

“What’s going on here?”

The authoritative voice came from behind her, and Joha

And so they would. Joha

But she’d be damned if that meant she wasn’t going to do her thing too.

Chapter 27

Are your kids home?” Len Gilman asked.

Adam shook his head. The five of them were still standing on the curb. Len Gilman didn’t look like a cop, though he had the gruff part down to an art form. He reminded Adam of one of those aging motorcycle gang members who still wears leather and hangs out in dive bars. Gilman’s graying handlebar mustache had yellow nicotine stains. He favored short-sleeved shirts, even when in uniform, and had enough hair on his arms to be mistaken for a bear.

For a moment, no one moved, just five town dads hanging by the curb on a Thursday night.

This made no sense, Adam thought, and maybe that was a good thing.

If Len Gilman had come here in his capacity as a police officer to deliver the worst kind of news, why would he bring Tripp, Gaston, and Cal with him?

“Maybe we could go inside,” Len said, “and talk.”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s better if we do this in private.”

Adam was tempted to say that they were in private, on the curb in front of his lawn where no one else could hear them, but Len was already starting up the walk and Adam didn’t want to do anything that might delay the conversation any more. The other three men waited for Adam. Gaston had his head down, studying the grass. Cal was jittery, but that was pretty much his default state. Tripp was noncommittal.

Adam moved in behind Len, the other three trailing on the path. When they got to the door, Len stepped aside and let Adam use the key. Jersey the dog rushed toward them, nails clacking on the hardwood, but, perhaps sensing something wasn’t quite right, her greeting was muted and perfunctory. Jersey quickly sized up the situation and slinked back to the kitchen.

The house fell into silence, the kind of silence that seemed deliberate, as though even the walls and furniture were conspiring to keep everything still. Adam didn’t bother with niceties. He didn’t ask anyone if they wanted to take a seat or have a drink. Len Gilman headed into the living room, as though he either owned the place or was a cop comfortable in his own skin.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked.

Len did the talking for the group. “Where is Cori

Two things hit Adam at once. First: relief. If she’d been hurt or worse, Len would know where she was. So whatever was going on here, even if it was something bad, it wasn’t the worst-case scenario. Second: fear. Because, yes, Cori

“She’s not home,” Adam said.

“Yes, we can see that. Would you mind telling us where she is?”

“Would you mind telling me why you want to know?”

Len Gilman kept his gaze on Adam. The other men stood and shifted their feet. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Adam was about to protest that this was his house and that he’d tell everyone when or where to sit, but that seemed pointless and a waste of energy. Len collapsed with a sigh in the big chair usually reserved for Adam. Adam noted that it was probably a power move, but again no reason to fret over the irrelevant. The other three men sat on the couch like the speak-no-hear-no-see-no monkeys. Adam stayed standing.

“What the hell is going on?” Adam asked again.

Len Gilman stroked his handlebar mustache as though it were a small pet. “I just want to make something clear right off the bat. I’m here in my role as a friend and a neighbor. I’m not here as the chief of police.”

“Oh, that’s encouraging.”

Len ignored the sarcasm and continued. “So as a friend and neighbor, I’m telling you that we are looking for Cori

“And as a friend and neighbor, not to mention a concerned husband, I’m asking you why.”

Len Gilman nodded, buying time, trying to figure how to play this. “I know Tripp stopped by here yesterday.”

“Right.”

“He mentioned that we had a lacrosse board meeting.”

Len Gilman then stopped talking, doing that cop thing where you wait and hope your subject says something. Adam knew the technique all too well from his days in the prosecutor’s office. He also knew that those who played it back, who tried to outwait the cop, were usually hiding something. Adam wasn’t. He also wanted to move this along, so he said, “Right,” again.

“Cori

“So what? Does she need an absence note from a parent?”

“Don’t be a wiseass, Adam.”

Len was right. He needed to clamp down on the sarcasm.

“Are you a member of the board, Len?” Adam asked.

“I’m a member at large.”