Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Regan is very worried about his son.”
I nodded.
“So you know who Mr. Regan is, then?”
“Oh no,” I told him, solemnly. “I thought it was some kind of general statement, and since I’m sure most people miss their kids, I could only assume Mr. Regan did as well.”
“He does,” he insisted.
“Yes, so you just said.”
He took a breath. “I should give you some background.”
“On what?”
“On Mr. Regan.”
“And who is he?”
“He’s the father of the missing child.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding.
He huffed out a breath. “Mr. Regan’s son was kidnapped.”
“Oh, that’s terrible, did he call the police?”
He growled that time. “Yes. That’s why I’m here.”
“Do they live on our street?” I asked him. “I have that My Neighborhood app on my phone. I could check for you.”
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “Mr. and Mrs. Regan live in Brookfield.”
“I—what?”
“You see, we’re tracking an organization called Sodalite.”
“Someone named an organization after diet soda?”
“No,” he said tightly. “Sodalite like the stone.”
“Oh, that makes more sense. I mean, sort of. Did you know that sodalite virtually disappeared between the first and nineteenth centuries?”
“I––”
“They found some in Pompeii, so clearly it was used ornamentally before that time, but then poof, into the ether, until it was rediscovered in a quarry in Greenland.”
“Yeah, that’s fascin––”
“I mean, that’s crazy, don’t you think, something can just be there and then gone like it never existed?”
“But, Mr. Harcourt, about Mr. Regan––”
“Who lives in Brookfield. Yes. May I ask where? I used to know people who lived on Vernon Avenue. I wonder if they’re still there.”
“People reported seeing a van there three nights ago, and even though one of the neighbors only got a partial plate, with the description of the van as well—we came to see you.”
“I completely understand,” I said graciously.
“You do?”
“Certainly. You have to run down all the leads, take all the information back and put it up on the board.”
“On the board?”
“Yeah. The giant whiteboard. You have my picture up, which I hope is something other than my driver’s license photo, because dear God, not a good picture, though my husband will tell you that I can’t take a bad picture, but he’s biased because he loves me so––”
“Look,” he almost yelled but lowered his voice at the end. “I just need to tell you that Mr. Regan is slowly dying because his wife and son are missing. The last time they were seen was getting into a van around one or so in the morning, and that van matches the description of yours.”
“Getting into the van?”
“What?”
“You said these people were getting into the van. Not being shoved into the van at gunpoint. Not stuffed into the van but getting into the van. As in voluntarily.”
“Yes, so?”
“Well, getting in means under their own power, without duress, which implies both intention and choice, yes?” I asked him. “So maybe Mrs. Regan and her son went with friends.”
“But Mr. Regan says she doesn’t have any friends.”
“Well, that’s just silly,” I assured him. “Most people have friends, Detective.”
“Mrs. Regan was a homebody. She quit her job when her son was born and has been home the last four years taking care of him.”
“What about playdates? What about people she knows from her son’s preschool? I mean, it’s very hard to be an island if you don’t live out in the middle of the wilderness or something.”
“Be that as it may, he says she didn’t have any friends.”
“So a van pulled up and she and her son got in.”
“Yes.”
“With stuff?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did they take stuff, or was it just them?”
He sighed deeply. “There were items taken from the house.”
I smiled at him. “Detective Vega, is it possible that Mrs. Regan went on a vacation?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because Mr. Regan told us.”
“Ah. So then we go to option two. Do we think Mrs. Regan ran away from her husband and took her boy?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Maybe not, because Mr. Regan has reported her missing and he wants to know where they are.”
“Yes.”
“Do we know if there is any reason that maybe Mrs. Regan wants to be away from her husband? Like, are there any domestic disputes?”
“Now see, that’s interesting that you ask that, because guess what Sodalite does?”
“I’m certain I have no idea.”
“Well, they actually rescue women from abusive relationships.”
“How?”
“The first person picks them up, keeps them for a night, and then takes them to the next place, where they get transported again and again. The police can’t put checks on airports or trains or buses, because that’s not how the people are moved.”
“So you believe that whoever picked up this woman and her child three nights ago, then took them to their house, where they stayed and then left the next morning.”
“Yes.”
“And there’s just this whole network of people working together to move these women.”
“Or men. Or people. Whatever.”