“Oh my God,” Phil expelled as a long sigh. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

“No.”

“Do you think she’s coming home? I mean, maybe she just needed to take a break or something.” This was delving into personal territory, and Jason could practically hear Phil’s blush over the phone lines.

“Maybe,” Jason said quietly.

“Well.” Phil seemed to pull himself together. “Sounds like I should arrange a sub for tomorrow.”

“I would think so.”

“Will the search begin in the morning? I imagine much of the staff would like to assist. Probably some parents of the students, as well. Of course you’ll need help distributing flyers, canvassing neighborhoods, that sort of thing. Who will be leading the charge?”

Jason faltered again, feeling the edge of panic. He caught it this time, stiffened his backbone, forced himself to sound firm. “I will get that information to you.”

“We’ll need to think of what to tell the children,” Phil stated, “preferably before they catch it on the news. Perhaps a public statement for the parents, as well. Nothing like this has happened around here before. We need to start preparing the kids.”

“I will get that information to you,” Jason repeated.

“How is Clarissa holding up?” Phil asked abruptly.

“About as well as can be expected.”

“If you need any help on that front, just let us know. I’m sure some of the teachers would be happy to assist. These things can all be managed, of course. All it takes is a plan.”

“Absolutely,” Jason assured him. “All it takes is a plan.”

CHAPTER NINE

At 5:59 P.M. Sergeant D.D. Warren was a happy camper. She had a warrant to search Jason Jones’s truck. She had an appointment with a registered sex offender’s parole officer. And better yet, it was trash night in the neighborhood.

She drove around South Boston with Detective Miller, getting the lay of the land while they plotted next steps.

“According to Detective Rober,” Miller was reporting, “Jones kept a low profile for the afternoon. No guests, no errands, no activities. He seems to be hanging out at home with his daughter, doing his thing.”

“Has he been out to the truck?” D.D. wanted to know.

“Nope, hasn’t even cracked open the front door.”

“Huh,” D.D. said. “Working on the computer? Your guy should be able to see him sitting there in the kitchen window.”

“I asked that question, and the answer is uncertain. Afternoon sun made the view into the kitchen window unclear. But in the officer’s professional assessment, Jones spent most of the day entertaining his kid.”

“Interesting,” D.D. said, and meant it. What a spouse did after a loved one went missing was always a source of fodder for the inquisitive detective. Did the spouse go about business as usual? Suddenly invite over a new female friend for “comfort”? Or run around purchasing accelerants and/or unusual power tools?