Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
She ran inside, checking the kitchen, the basement, calling out her son’s name every few seconds. She turned on the outdoor lights that illuminated the backyard and went out there, the cold, dewy grass tickling the soles of her feet. She ran to the shed where Charlie had found the box of trains, opened the door and looked inside, squinted, struggling to see in the dark.
Charlie was not there.
The outdoor lights only illuminated to the edge of the woods. She looked into the dark, foreboding trees and felt a sense of despair wash over her.
I have to call the police.
She ran back into the house and up to her room, where her phone was charging on the bedside table. She grabbed it, hit 911. The moment a dispatcher answered, she said:
“My name is Annie Blunt and I’m at 11318 Scoutland Road and my son is missing!”
The dispatcher wanted details. Annie put the phone on speaker and tossed it onto the bed, trying her best to answer the dispatcher’s questions while she got into her jeans, pulled a sweater on over her head, and slipped her feet into a pair of running shoes, not bothering with socks.
She grabbed the phone again and headed for the stairs.
“Where are you going?” the dispatcher asked.
“Looking for him, what do you think?”
“Ma’am, stay at the house until the police—”
But Annie had ended the call.
She grabbed her keys from a decorative bowl on the front hall table and was out the door and in her car in seconds. All she could think to do was drive. Maybe Charlie was sleepwalking along the road, and if he was, she needed to find him before some driver coming home after too much to drink wandered onto the shoulder and—
“Shut up!” she said to herself. “Shut up shut up shut up!”
She hit the start engine button on the center console, put the high beams on, and guided the car down the drive to the road. When she reached it, she had a decision to make.
Left or right.
Right would take her in the direction of Fenelon. Left would take her to that railway crossing, maybe half a mile up.
Annie turned left.
She drove slowly, window down, shouting out her son’s name every ten yards or so. She scanned the road from shoulder to shoulder.
The high beams caught something. Up ahead, on the opposite shoulder. Where the road rose slightly to meet the railroad crossing.
Something small and blue and moving.
Charlie, in his pajamas, his back to the headlights. He was walking slowly, had almost reached the crossing. Annie didn’t hit the gas, didn’t want the sound of a racing engine to startle him. Once she was alongside, she stopped the car in the middle of the road, headlights still on and flashers activated, and jumped out.