Emma couldn’t help parsing all the possibilities, however hideous. She loved Will more than life itself. She could not imagine going forward without him. She would find him. She knew it.
She heard a siren approaching. Archie swung into the driveway skidding on the turn. His LEDs, concealed in his grill, strobed red and blue, bright in the nighttime. His unmarked car shuddered as he threw the shift lever into Park.
Pepper, Archie’s stalwart Belgian Malinois police dog, bounded across the lawn and gave Emma enough love to make her feel one-quarter ready to face what was to come.
Archie ran toward Emma. Out of breath, he threw a big bear hug around her. He enveloped her, and she sobbed anew. Emma was tall, but when she pressed her cheek against him, her head fit comfortably under his chin. Patting her back, as fathers do, he muttered, “There, there. We’ll sort this out.”
Emma heard another siren approaching, then another, and then a third. The whole department was responding.
Detective Larry “Buzz” Buzzucano was right behind Archie. A cop’s cop, Buzz could intimidate the shit out of the most insufferable suspect. Officer Caroline Stoner was right behind Buzz.
The last to arrive was Sergeant Stella Weeks, Emma’s bête noire on the force, but Emma was still glad she’d responded. Weeks had clearly come from home.
They stood in a jumpy group on the front lawn. Archie directed Buzzucano and Stoner to canvass the neighbors north and south of Emma’s. “See if anybody saw anything, anything at all,” he ordered.
To Weeks, Emma, and Pepper, he said, “Let’s go inside.”
Archie found a sock of Will’s in the downstairs laundry hamper. He called Pepper over. She sat in front of him, her ears pricked. “Search, Pepper,” he commanded.
While Pepper bounded off and methodically searched the house room-to-room, the rest of them made the same inspection that Emma already had completed. Except for the dirty dishes and the broken picture in the bedroom, there was nothing to find. No evidence, and no Will. Pepper came up empty, too.
“Shit,” Archie said.
“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “What now?”
He took a last look around the living room where they were standing. “Sarge, do you mind stepping outside?”
When Weeks left the house, Archie said, “Tell me exactly what happened between you and Will.”
“Oh, Dad, this is so completely awful. I don’t know—”
“I understand, Baby. But let’s just concentrate on the here and now. Finding out what happened is all we should be thinking about.” Archie was now sounding more like a policeman than a dad.
“I get it,” Emma replied. “There was no trouble between us if that’s what you’re inferring. Just Will’s depression and my concern for him.” She paused and tried to answer the other part of his question, “Okay, I gave Will a bath and an early supper. He ate very little. No surprise there. Before that, he was reading crazy passages from the book of Job. That’s what scared me the most. After I gave him his meds, I got into bed with him until he went to sleep. Then I had a glass of wine, after which I decided to use the time to do some shopping. The shelves were bare. At most, I think I was out of the house for ninety minutes. No more. When I got home, he was gone.”
“Listen, Emma, we gotta talk frankly here. But only if you’re up to it. Are you?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Based on what you told me tonight and Will’s psychiatrist’s reaction, I think we have to face the fact that Will might have tried to hurt himself or is going to. Do you have any idea where he might go? Did he have a quiet place where he liked to take walks? In the woods? In the state park? Someplace private?”
“Will wasn’t a big outdoors guy, but he did like to walk around New Forest Lake, but that’s not exactly private. Lots of people walk there.”
Archie scratched his head. “There is that patch of woods on the north side of the lake. We could start there.”
There was a knock on the front door. Stoner and Buzzucano.
Stoner said, “We canvassed the neighbors. Everyone who was home claimed they didn’t see a thing. The lady across the street saw Emma leave, but she didn’t see her come back. Sorry, Chief. We got zilch.”
“All right, let’s go back to headquarters and rally the troops. Emma, you come too. We’ll call a meeting. All available bodies. I want patrol units off the street, too. I mean everybody.”
The headquarters of the Hampshire Police Department was in the center of town and shared its space with the town administration and the city council. Across Main Street, the Broken River flowed, swollen by spring rains. The abandoned mills crowded the south bank.
HQ looked like a hellish Victorian prison. Inside was no better. The roll-call room was shabby. Church basement chairs in haphazard lines faced a podium. Emma entered with the other officers and detectives. A grim venue, she thought, for a grim meeting. But when she saw off-duty officers arriving as well, she felt gratitude. The Blue Line was solid.
Behind the podium, there was a hand-scrawled sign which spoke volumes about her father’s tenure: “Archie’s Three Rules: No Floozy, No Boozy, No Snoozy.”
Archie and Pepper arrived through a separate door at the front of the room. Archie took his place behind the podium. His face held a grimace. Pepper sat down next to the podium and gazed at her master.
Emma studied her dad. Will’s disappearance had clearly caused him more distress that she had realized. His typically ruddy face was gray.
Before beginning, Archie scanned the room. He made eye contact with every single officer. “You all know why we are here,” he began. “Your colleague, Emma, needs your help. I do too. As some of you know ...” Archie sent Emma a questioning look. She nodded. “... Will Foster, Emma’s husband, has been suffering from depression and has been out of work for some months. Some of you know Will; some of you don’t. For those who have never met him, my son-in-law is a standup guy. Will would do anything for any of you. I can’t imagine anyone wishing him harm. That said, we are the police. So, we are going to investigate every possibility.
“But the first possibility we have to consider ...” He glanced at Emma again. “... is that Will intends to harm himself. This afternoon, he said some disturbing things which could be construed as suicidal feelings. We are going to split up and conduct area-specific searches for him. I will also ask the public via social media to muster tomorrow morning at oh-nine-hundred for a town-wide search. I’ve also issued a Silver Alert with state authorities. Any questions before I continue?”
Officer Pete Sinclair said, “I thought Silver Alerts were for Alzheimer’s patients.”
“They are, but they’re also for folks over the age of eighteen who have a mental impairment. I stretched a little and included depression.”
Sinclair followed up with, “What is Will driving, sir?”
“We don’t know if he is driving anything. Both of the family vehicles are accounted for.”
Emma glanced around the room. There were thirteen officers, sergeants, and detectives present. Virtually the whole department. They were all attentive, hanging on Archie’s every word.
Archibald “Archie” Thorne had been chief of Hampshire, Connecticut’s fifteen-person police department for as long as anyone bothered to recall.
He was very much the “town father” type. A master of “aw shucks,” most people in town and all his cops loved him. Emma was his only child, and he had wanted her to join the police department since, as he might’ve said, she was knee high to a night stick.
“I want Stoner and Beyersdorf to drive down to New Haven and interview Will’s colleagues in the English department at Yale. I know the chief of the Campus Police. Introduce yourself to him, and he will look after you. Good guy. His name’s Conor McCarthy.
“Sinclair and Smith will take friends and associates of Will’s around Hampshire. Emma can give all you guys a list of people to talk to.”
Archie continued, “As for one of the other possibilitie
s, Detective Buzzucano is going to set up a trace on Emma’s cell phone, her home phone, and whatever phones the Fosters, Will’s parents, use. We will be prepared if this turns out to be a kidnapping for ransom, which I highly doubt. As I said before, we are Will’s friends, but we are also the Hampshire Police Department.”
Archie looked up from his scribbled notes and said, “That’s it, guys. We are going to find Will Foster whatever it takes. Right?”
The members of the department shuffled out of the room thoughtfully, leaving Emma alone with Archie and Pepper.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Archie put a hand on each of Emma’s shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “Too early to say that, Baby, way too early. Hang in there.”
Emma nodded her head, but her instincts screamed the opposite. He pulled her into a hug.
“By the way,” her dad said into her ear, “do the Fosters even know yet?”
Emma shook her head.
“You’d better go see them, then, before Buzzucano does. Can you do that? I’d better stay here and organize the searches.” He looked at his watch. “It’s late. Why don’t you go tomorrow morning? I’ll wave off Buzz until then. You can take Pepper with you. She’s a reliable companion … and a good one to have for a mission like this.”
5
On the Veranda
On Saturday morning, Emma procrastinated. She didn’t head over to the Fosters until eleven o’clock. Will’s parents, Frank and Joan Foster, lived in a shingle-style house on New Forest Lake. A sprawling, custom-built home, it faced west toward the water. Frank liked to call that his “cocktail light.” He had made a fortune in insurance in the days when Hartford Insurance meant real money. Joan liked to call herself a housewife/philanthropist. They were card-carrying Conservatives.
Frank and Joan had never cottoned to Emma. Their dream for a daughter-in-law hadn’t been a cop’s daughter … let alone a cop herself … let alone a left-leaning cop. Nor did it satisfy them that their Yale professor son had married a girl with a degree in Police Science from the University of New Haven. A hard-won master’s degree in Criminal Justice didn’t make the grade either. Emma took it as well as she could, but it didn’t make for the coziest of Thanksgiving dinners.
With Pepper at her side, Emma rang the front doorbell. She was surprised when Georgia, Will’s fraternal twin, opened the door. Georgia rarely left her house. Will used to say that his sister had “issues.” If Emma had a problem with Will’s parents, she enjoyed a complete disconnect with Georgia.
“This a surprise,” Georgia began.
Her long blonde hair was done up in an elaborate braid-bun. Although she was convinced of her irresistible beauty, Will once whispered to Emma, “I hate to say it, but my sister has a million-dollar body and the face to protect it.” Emma thought he said that just because he loved to be funny. Georgia wasn’t a conventional beauty, but the combination of her lustrous hair, her widow’s peak, her stature, her wide mouth and full lips, and her intense blue eyes combined to leave people, men in particular, with a powerful impression.
“Hello, Georgia. It’s been a while. How’s Sophie doing?”
“Fine. Thanks to you. You know, I never really thought of you as a real cop. I thought it was more of a nepotism kind of thing,”
“Are your parents home?”
“They’re on the veranda.”
Pepper and Emma followed Georgia through to the side of the house that faced the lake.
Joan and Frank were sipping from glasses of white wine. Frank wore a country squire tweed jacket. He rose to greet her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a lukewarm pat on the shoulder. Joan switched her wineglass to her left hand and extended a bony right hand. Georgia sat next to her mother and retrieved her wineglass.
Emma was surprised to see Sophie King standing behind Joan Foster’s chair. She waved to the girl. Sophie didn’t look any the worse for wear after her ordeal. Mostly she looked young. She wore a pair of shorts and a Justin Timberlake tee-shirt. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail.
“Do join us. Wine?” Frank said.
“No thanks.”
“What brings you here,” Frank said, “on this splendid spring day? Where’s Will? He doesn’t teach on Fridays, does he?”
Were these people clueless? Will hadn’t been to work in months.
Emma found herself forestalling the inevitable. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to visit. I’ve been pretty busy.”
Joan said, “Keeping the public safe, I presume. Hey, what’s with the dog? He’s not dangerous, is he?”
Emma might have corrected her. Pepper is a she, and she’s not dangerous unless I tell her to throttle your scrawny neck. But she refrained.
She already knew that this was not going to end well.
Emma sat fidgeting, stalling. She couldn’t bring herself to trigger the vituperation she knew would inevitably follow. “It’s been ages since Will stopped by. Yale sure keeps him busy,” Joan mused.
“He’s such a star,” Frank said, “We’re so proud of our Will.”
Emma knew that Will avoided his parents as best he could. She also knew why. Through confidences, which Will had shared with her early in their marriage, she couldn’t understand why Georgia didn’t avoid them, too.
“I’m afraid I have some disturbing news,” she finally said, “Will has gone missing.”
Joan leapt to her feet. “What does that even mean? Gone missing?”
“For the first time—it was yesterday—Will began to hint at suicide. I called his psychotherapist last night, and she agreed to see him today. When I got home from shopping, Will was gone. My department has not found any trace of him so far—”
They all spoke at once.
Frank shouted, “What the hell! Why didn’t you tell us? This happened yesterday?”
“You went shopping while our son was threatening to kill himself?” Joan shrieked.
Georgia summed up, “You’re to blame for this, Emma. You alone.”
Emma felt herself begin to snap. It wasn’t as if this hadn’t been bad enough. She’d already known these people would give her no comfort. She couldn’t believe her dear, sweet Will was even a part of this family.
But she tried to be reasonable. “Look, Georgia, I know you blame me for Will’s state of mind. You’ve made that clear enough but I—”
“You’re goddamn right I blame you. Will was the happiest man alive until he met you—”
Alert to the contretemps, Pepper rose from her sitting position. Emma said no under her breath.
“That’s not fair, and you know it. That’s just not fair.” In spite of herself, Emma felt tears looming. She tried to hold them back. On top of everything, their reactions pissed her off. “I did everything for Will, when he was well and when he became sick. The only thing I couldn’t give him, which we both wanted more than anything, was a baby.” Her voice rose. “Do you blame me for that, too?”
“I do,” Joan said.
“Me, too,” Georgia echoed.
Emma straightened her back and turned on her heel in a tactical retreat.
In the forecourt of the house, she heard the crunch of pea stones behind her. She whipped around, half expecting Georgia to be pursuing her with more hurtful words. It turned out to be Sophie King.
“Mrs., um, Thorne, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. The Fosters, they, like, creep me out. I never feel like I say the right thing. Like they’re always so critical.”
“Tell me about it,” Emma said.
“I just want you to know that I appreciate you saving my life the other day. Joe is such a loser. I must’ve been crazy to look twice at him.”
“The good news is that you seem okay. I guess we can both agree that your “incident” could’ve had a different ending.”
Sophie looked as if she had something more to say.
Sophie said, tentatively, “Um, ever since the deal with Joe, Georgia’s been acting all weird-like. It�
��s like she’s different. Like suddenly she’s my mom or something.”
“Maybe she’s just worried about you—”
“No, it’s different. She keeps asking me if Joe, you know, touched me. And keeps asking me. She wants to know all the gory details. She won’t let it alone.”
“I just think she’s concerned. That’s what it sounds like to me. I suppose you could just say you don’t want to discuss it any more, that it’s upsetting to talk about.”
Sophie said, “That’s a great idea. Thanks, Mrs. Thorne.”
Emma thought for a minute and decided to go ahead. “Have you heard that Joe is back on the streets? He hired an expensive New York lawyer and paid a hefty bail to get out.”
“I told you he was rich.”
“Yeah, well, tell me if he gets in touch with you. Will you do that for me?”
Sophie said, “Sure thing Mrs. Thorne!” as if such a promise was a mere triviality.
Sophie skipped back into the house, acting like she’d shrugged off a great weight.
6
No Shock Advised
The week after Will vanished felt like a forced march through mud season. The cops’ slog was unyielding and enervating.
The department pulled together. Overtime flew out the window. Archie stayed at headquarters day and night fielding reports and directing his troops.
The town rallied on the Saturday morning after Will’s disappearance. Archie sent them out in search parties with specific instructions and predetermined search areas. Over eighty people showed up on Saturday. On Sunday, more than 100 people pitched in. The outpouring cheered Emma, but only slightly. The townspeople found nothing.
Ever So Silent Page 3
