Poitras pushed up from the Eames chair. Dave? If you have enough to get started, let's roll out of here. I want to knock on a couple of doors. Maybe someone down the hill saw something.

Gittamon gestured to Starkey that she could close her notebook, then stood to join Poitras.

Ms. Chenier, please, I'm not saying Ben staged his own abduction-I'm really not, Mr. Cole-but it's something we have to consider. I'd like a list of Ben's friends and their phone numbers. It's still early enough to make a few calls.

Lucy stood with them, as intent and focused as I had ever seen her.

I'll have to get them from home. I can go do that right now.

I said, Gittamon, you going to ignore the goddamned call?

No, Mr. Cole, we're going to treat this as an abduction until we know otherwise. Can you put together a list of the people involved with whatever happened to you in the Army and any other information you have?

They're dead.

Well, their families. We might want to speak with their families. Carol, would you get together with Mr. Cole on that?

Starkey handed me her card as the four of us went to the door.

Starkey said, I'll come by tomorrow morning to see where you found the Game Freak. I can get the names then. What's a good time?

Sunrise.

If Starkey heard the anger in my answer she didn't show it. She shrugged.

Better light around seven.

Fine.

Gittamon said, If he calls again, let us know. You can phone any time.

I will.

That was it. Gittamon told Lucy that he would be expecting her call, and then they left. Lucy and I did not speak as we watched them drive away, but once they were gone Ben's absence was a physical force in the house, as real as a body hanging from my loft. Three of us present, not just two. Lucy picked up her briefcase. It was still where she dropped it.

I want to get those names for Sergeant Gittamon.

I know. I'll get my names together, too. Call me when you get home, okay?

Lucy glanced at the time, then closed her eyes.

Jesus, I have to call Richard. God, that's going to be awful, telling him about this.

Richard Chenier was Lucy's ex-husband and Ben's father. He lived in New Orleans, and it was only right that she tell him that his son was missing. Richard and Lucy had argued often about me. I guessed they would argue more.

Lucy fumbled with her briefcase and her keys, and all at once she started crying. I cried, too. We held each other tight, the two of us crying, my face in her hair.

I said, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened or who would do this or why, but I'm sorry.

Don't.

I didn't know what else to say.