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Authors: Sujata Massey
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Kendall’s street because, to me, they all looked the same. Harmony Way—yes, that was it. I recognized her home when I saw on the front door a eucalyptus wreath tied with a pink-and-green ribbon, and Win Junior’s red Little Tikes car tipped over the front path.
I jabbed the doorbell hard, just in case Kendall’s husband was home from his meeting, but nobody answered. Please let the alarm be off, I prayed to myself as I tried different keys in the lock. The door swung open with a soft chiming sound, not the siren I’d feared. Excellent, I thought, hurrying back to the car to bring in the children. With one tucked under each of my arms, it was a heavy load, but I couldn’t risk leaving one child in the car unsupervised for even a minute. Despite the rough handling, Jacqueline kept snoring, but Win Junior woke up and wanted to play in his car.
“It’s too late. Too dark,” I said. Once we got inside, I unloaded Win on the Persian rug in the cavernous entry hall while I carried Jacquie upstairs to her crib. Then I hurried back downstairs to make milk for Win, who’d begun to whine for it. He showed me where the sippy cups were, and pointed out the soymilk in the fridge. As a cup of milk revolved in the microwave, I surveyed Kendall and Win’s kitchen. It was state-of-the-art, in Kendall’s words, with acres of black granite countertop, and faux-faded cream cabinetry. Near the Sub-zero fridge, a faux-antique framed chalkboard had neatly chalked-in names and phone numbers. Kendall’s work and cell, as well as Win’s. I’d call him after I got the children settled. As I was on my way to them, the telephone rang. Louis Burns told me that he’d determined Kendall’s cell phone was moving at a pace that seemed to indicate it was in a car.
“Do you know for certain that it’s a car?”
“Oh, no. It could be anything—a car or truck or van or even bus. There’s really no way to tell, at this point. I’m sending someone over to get a picture of your cousin. Can you get one ready for us?”
Casting a last look at Win Junior, who was lying on his backsucking down the cup of warm milk, I took the cordless phone with me into the living room. I couldn’t see any photo albums, but on the mantel I noticed a silver-framed wedding photograph of Kendall in a white gown leaning back against Win, before his hairline had begun to recede. I’d missed their wedding because I’d been in Japan. I picked it up and asked, “Would a framed photo work?”
“Sure. We’ll take it out of the frame and put it back in when it’s all over.”
All over. That could be good, or bad. “The fact that you want the photo, does it mean you’re seriously looking for her?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“So you’re tracking the telephone. What if the phone battery goes dead?” I asked.
“Sometimes we’ve still been able to locate the vehicle. But we can’t pinpoint it exactly. We can track it to a quarter-mile area. If we know what the car looks like, it’s usually pretty easy to find.”
But nobody had seen the car. That was unspoken.
We made arrangements for an officer to come to the house to take the photograph from me. He also wanted to talk to Kendall’s husband. I gave him the phone number that I’d seen on the chalkboard.
“How are the kids?” Burns asked gruffly.
“Okay. I’m about to put them to bed.”
“Good idea. Is there anyone else who could help you? A grandmother, maybe?”
“Kendall’s parents are on St. Barth’s right now. Kendall and Win have a live-in baby-sitter. She’s got to make it home sometime.”
“If, for any reason, nobody can relieve you, there’s always emergency help from social services.”
I looked at Win, half asleep on the rug, and felt so much fear that I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t talk to Burns anymore. I whispered, “Why don’t I let you go, so you can get back to tracking down my cousin.”
I changed Win’s diaper and put him in pajamas and laid
I jabbed the doorbell hard, just in case Kendall’s husband was home from his meeting, but nobody answered. Please let the alarm be off, I prayed to myself as I tried different keys in the lock. The door swung open with a soft chiming sound, not the siren I’d feared. Excellent, I thought, hurrying back to the car to bring in the children. With one tucked under each of my arms, it was a heavy load, but I couldn’t risk leaving one child in the car unsupervised for even a minute. Despite the rough handling, Jacqueline kept snoring, but Win Junior woke up and wanted to play in his car.
“It’s too late. Too dark,” I said. Once we got inside, I unloaded Win on the Persian rug in the cavernous entry hall while I carried Jacquie upstairs to her crib. Then I hurried back downstairs to make milk for Win, who’d begun to whine for it. He showed me where the sippy cups were, and pointed out the soymilk in the fridge. As a cup of milk revolved in the microwave, I surveyed Kendall and Win’s kitchen. It was state-of-the-art, in Kendall’s words, with acres of black granite countertop, and faux-faded cream cabinetry. Near the Sub-zero fridge, a faux-antique framed chalkboard had neatly chalked-in names and phone numbers. Kendall’s work and cell, as well as Win’s. I’d call him after I got the children settled. As I was on my way to them, the telephone rang. Louis Burns told me that he’d determined Kendall’s cell phone was moving at a pace that seemed to indicate it was in a car.
“Do you know for certain that it’s a car?”
“Oh, no. It could be anything—a car or truck or van or even bus. There’s really no way to tell, at this point. I’m sending someone over to get a picture of your cousin. Can you get one ready for us?”
Casting a last look at Win Junior, who was lying on his backsucking down the cup of warm milk, I took the cordless phone with me into the living room. I couldn’t see any photo albums, but on the mantel I noticed a silver-framed wedding photograph of Kendall in a white gown leaning back against Win, before his hairline had begun to recede. I’d missed their wedding because I’d been in Japan. I picked it up and asked, “Would a framed photo work?”
“Sure. We’ll take it out of the frame and put it back in when it’s all over.”
All over. That could be good, or bad. “The fact that you want the photo, does it mean you’re seriously looking for her?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“So you’re tracking the telephone. What if the phone battery goes dead?” I asked.
“Sometimes we’ve still been able to locate the vehicle. But we can’t pinpoint it exactly. We can track it to a quarter-mile area. If we know what the car looks like, it’s usually pretty easy to find.”
But nobody had seen the car. That was unspoken.
We made arrangements for an officer to come to the house to take the photograph from me. He also wanted to talk to Kendall’s husband. I gave him the phone number that I’d seen on the chalkboard.
“How are the kids?” Burns asked gruffly.
“Okay. I’m about to put them to bed.”
“Good idea. Is there anyone else who could help you? A grandmother, maybe?”
“Kendall’s parents are on St. Barth’s right now. Kendall and Win have a live-in baby-sitter. She’s got to make it home sometime.”
“If, for any reason, nobody can relieve you, there’s always emergency help from social services.”
I looked at Win, half asleep on the rug, and felt so much fear that I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t talk to Burns anymore. I whispered, “Why don’t I let you go, so you can get back to tracking down my cousin.”
I changed Win’s diaper and put him in pajamas and laid
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