“Or someone else killed her. Until we find her body, we don’t have a clue as to what we’re dealing with.” Decker gave the room a final glance. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more out of this. Let’s see what the staff has to say about friendly Dr. McLaughlin and her quiet son, Gabe.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE ONE GREAT thing about playing was that it was all-consuming. When he was into it, Gabe simply didn’t have the psychic energy to deal with anything else. Playing transported him to another place. He was so focused on what he was doing, he was able to shut out the world. Unfortunately he had only one hour of intense solitude before Hannah and the others would come in for choir practice. The way his nerves felt—raw and discharging at whim—he would have done well with an entire week of isolation—just him and Mr. Steinway.

Hannah was the first to arrive. She immediately walked over to him. “Hey.” She sat down at the piano bench next to him. “Where’d you disappear to?”

Gabe felt his skin go hot. “Someone noticed I was gone?”

“Yeah, I did. You had me worried.”

“Worried?” He was mystified. “Why?”

Hannah was puzzled. “After what happened to your mom, I’d think you’d want to be a little cautious.”

“I just got a cup of coffee. I’m fine. Do me a favor and forget about me, okay.”

She was silent. “I don’t mean to look over your shoulder, Gabe. It’s just that my dad’s a little concerned about you.”

“Why? What does he thinks gonna happen?”

“He’s probably a little uneasy about what Dad could do.”

Again, Gabe felt his face warm up. “I keep telling your dad that my dad doesn’t give a shit about me.” His fingers danced up and down the keyboard. “See, your dad is thinking like a dad. My dad doesn’t think that way. Unless I have something he wants, he has no use for me. When I was attached to my mom and we came as a package, he wanted my mom, so he was stuck with me. But now my mom’s gone. Ergo, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Rest assured that my dad is out of the picture.” He turned back to the keyboard, hoped his lies—well, half lies—were convincing.