He instinctively felt for his cell phone as he stepped out of his truck, and tried to figure out what it was that didn’t seem right. Why would the whole family have taken off in the middle of the week, when the kids were due at school and Danny at work? It wasn’t like Tony to jump to conclusions or worry unless there was a good possibility something was up. He tried to reassure himself that there could be any number of reasonable explanations as he shuffled through the leaves and headed for the front door.

He rang the bell several times. No answer. He knocked hard, hammering on it.

“Hello, Danny? Rachel? Anybody home?” Still no answer.

Tom circled the house, cupping his hands to peer into a few windows, and then punched Danny’s home number into his phone. He could hear it ringing from outside the window, and then the Turner voices answering through his phone. It was downright eerie. He hung up, frustrated, and was about to try a window when he glimpsed something scurry across the foyer floor. It looked like one of the kids, but he couldn’t be sure; whoever it was had just whisked by and was now out of sight. But someone was in there for sure. Why hadn’t they responded? What the hell was going on? He rapped on the window with the handle of his screwdriver and shouted as he sped around to the front door.

Suddenly he heard the sound of feet coming toward him, down the steps and across the floor. From inside a child’s voice shouted, “Someone’s at the door! Are we late for school?”

Tom let out a sigh of relief. “It’s Tom Schroeder. Can you let me in?”

The mahogany door instantly swung open and there stood Christopher Turner, Danny and Rachel’s eight-year-old son. He was wide-eyed and very excited, but looked scruffy, like he had just rolled out of bed—yet he was dressed for school in jeans and a white Cleveland Indians T-shirt.

“Chris, where are your mom and dad?” Tom asked while shielding his eyes from the sunlight that was streaming across the foyer.

“I don’t know,” Christopher said, blinking. “Are we late for school?”

“Christopher, where are your mom and dad?” Tom repeated, louder.