By late afternoon, as the search continued, Annie began to feel faint and realized she’d eaten nothing all day. For reasons of pure survival, she went into the kitchen and ate one of the bagels she’d put in the cooler. That, and a coffee, gave her some strength, but to do what? She wanted to be out looking for Charlie, too, but what area would she search that hadn’t already been combed over by the police?

She had to think about this in a different way. The question wasn’t where Charlie was. The question really was: Why had he left? Maybe Standish was right. Charlie’s motive for leaving was critical.

If she believed Charlie was still alive—and she simply had to—and that he had not been abducted but left on his own accord, where would he go?

Back to the city? He might want to, but on a bicycle? It was hundreds of miles, and he’d be spotted somewhere along the way. A kid that little, pedaling on an interstate highway?

If not the city, then—

“Ms. Blunt?”

She put down her bagel and turned to find Standish in her kitchen. There was nothing in the officer’s expression that suggested good news.

“We’re scaling back the search, for the moment,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean we’re done. We’re short of people. We’re in the process of bringing in more teams. We have someone coming with tracking dogs. There are still going to be some people on this tonight. We’re bringing in a plane first thing in the morning that can pick up heat signals, so if Charlie is lost in the woods somewhere, we have a good chance of finding him that way, provided he’s . . . We could find him that way. I want you to know we’re not giving up. We’re throwing everything we have at this tomorrow. Plus, we’ve got media coverage. A lot of people, just regular folks, are going to be checking their own property to see whether Charlie might be there.”

Annie said, “Okay.”

“And you have my card. You can call me. Doesn’t matter when.”

Annie said nothing.

Standish started walking backward from the room. “So, tomorrow, then.”

And then she was gone.

A moment later, Annie walked out to the porch and watched the various police and other emergency vehicles depart. Feeling weak, she settled into a chair until the last of them was gone.

It was suddenly very quiet.

Annie bowed her head and began to weep. She was long overdue for a meltdown. She owed herself one. She cried and cried and cried.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said under her breath. “Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, where the fuck have you gone?”

She cried some more. And then she heard something over the sound of her own weeping. Something from inside the house.

Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuffchuffchuff . . .

Thirty-Two