Cool night air spilled through the windows of Paul Wiesses’ Ford as he guided the vehicle along Highway 55, back to Loretto.
Beside him, Rebecca offered an advance warning that her house was a veritable disaster zone, making it sound like she expected city inspectors to come around any day now and condemn it to demolition. He laughed when she added a similar comment.
Not long ago, after Mallory had called from the fair to tell them she and Tim had a ride home, he and Rebecca decided to take in a movie. Due to the timing, however, most features had already started, and the following shows didn’t end until after midnight. Rather than wait, and because Rebecca had to work early the next day, she suggested they go back to her place, make a batch of popcorn, and select a movie from Tim’s DVD collection—a plan which Paul wholeheartedly agreed to.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had an evening this nice,” Rebecca said once they entered town. It wasn’t the first time she’d voiced her approval of the night, but with this remark, Paul detected a subtle tone that suggested their time together had been more to her than just a pleasant dinner.
“Me, too,” he replied.
On the radio, a female singer sung of ruined love and betrayal, yet the contrastive, upbeat instrumentals fit well with the moment.
He made a left onto Crestview Lane, and Rebecca’s house came into view a short distance away.
Drawing closer, they saw her garage door stood open, its neatly kept interior storing only shadow. But the sight of the garage only provided a backdrop for the State Patrol car parked in front of the house.
“That’s odd,” Rebecca said.
She spoke the words with less worry in her voice than Paul believed he might have managed. At the sight of the maroon cruiser, Mallory’s previous phone conversation leapt to the front of his mind, particularly her insistence on riding home with her friends. The terrible image of a mangled car and its teenage passengers slipped into his head, but he forced it away.
“Why would Sam be over?” she said.
“Sam?”
“Sam Hale. My neighbor.”
Paul pulled into the driveway, and the tall officer walked over. He had the graying crew cut of a military general and the sturdy look of a tank. Paul lowered his window once the man neared, feeling oddly like he was getting a traffic ticket.
Without even acknowledging Paul’s presence, the officer looked at Rebecca. “Is Tim home?”
There was no mistaking the concern in his voice.
“No,” she answered. “He’s out with a friend. Why? What’s happened?”
“A little while ago, some kid ran his bike across the train tracks,” Hale explained. “It looks like he may have been hit.”
“Oh, my God.”
The trooper put up a reassuring hand. “It wasn’t head-on. From the looks of it—and by what the engineer says—the kid just got nicked. On the other hand, we can’t locate him, so we don’t know the whole story. The reason I’m here is because Father Bachman said he saw someone running from the area, and he swears the kid looked just like Tim.”
“No,” Rebecca repeated. “He couldn’t have.” But then she looked to the open garage.
Paul followed her gaze and searched the near-empty stall. The shadows inside had been thick beforehand, but the light from Paul’s Expedition had evaporated the darkness so that he and Rebecca now saw there was no bicycle inside.
“It was open when I got here,” Hale said.
Rebecca faced Paul, this time with fear in her eyes. “You don’t think they would’ve come home this early, do you?”
“I doubt it,” he answered, trying to be optimistic. “Let me try giving Lori a call. Maybe she’s heard from them.”
“The phones are out all over town,” the sergeant informed him, then offered his apologies for being so forthright and introduced himself.
“This is the man I was telling you about earlier this evening,” Rebecca told Hale. “Paul Wiess, the one who just moved here from Minneapolis.”
The trooper blinked, looking as if he’d suddenly made a startling discovery.
“Tim knows better than to play chicken with a train,” Rebecca continued. “Are you sure all the phones are out? I bet if we call over to Paul’s on his cell phone, we’ll find Tim is there with Mallory.”
Rather than answer, Hale looked at Paul and asked, “Is your son’s name Benjamin Wiess?”
“Yes.”
“I think you’ll want to come with me.”
“Why?” Paul asked.
Hale’s eyes flicked to Rebecca before answering—only for an instant, but long enough for Paul to catch a glimpse of the trepidation in the man’s otherwise unyielding expression. “I’m afraid there’s been a break-in at your house. I heard it over the radio just a little bit ago. Lori Hanlon was over there, right?”
“She’s babysitting his son,” Rebecca answered for Paul.
“A break-in?” Paul repeated. “Are they—”
“The kids are fine,” Hale assured. “Benjamin got out and made it to one of your neighbors, who called the police on a CB. I’ll escort you out there. We can see if Tim’s shown up, too.”