“Let me know if Paulette has anything to say about Georgina’s grandmother. Or any other tidbits she shares that might be helpful.”

“Will do.”

Regan hung up and turned on the car.

“These pictures are dreadful,” Kit said quietly.

“They were stuffed in her pillow. I guess they gave her sweet dreams,” Regan said as she steered the car out into the traffic. “There are so many bars in this city. I think I’ll call Cal and see if he knows of any bars on the Upper East Side that are known for margaritas. At least it’s a place to start.”

25

C hip Jones’s parents were watching coverage of the blackout in their rustic country home in Maine. Sue and Chris Jones were an attractive couple in their late forties. Both were blond and athletic. They’d raised two blond, athletic children—Chip and a daughter who lived in California. Life had been good to them.

“Chip sounded like he was having fun,” Sue told her husband as she sat down next to him on the overstuffed couch in the great room of the house. A large, stone fireplace was at one end of the spacious room and an open-air kitchen at the other. A cool breeze was blowing in through sliding glass doors that overlooked the sea. The vacation home was their summer retreat and where they spent the holidays.

“What a mess though,” Chris answered. “It all started because lightning struck a tree that hadn’t been trimmed. A branch falls on a power line and starts a whole chain of events that lead to a major blackout.” Chris was a good man, if rather anal. His yard was always perfect, and the tools in his garage and basement were arranged with surgical precision. The idea of untended, overgrown trees was anathema to him.

The phone rang. Sue reached for the portable next to the couch. “It’s Natalie,” Sue said as she glanced at the caller ID. Natalie was their twenty-five-year-old daughter who was working at a television station in San Diego. “Hello, honey.”

“Hi, Mom. Are you okay? Do you still have power?”

“We’re fine. It’s actually a very pleasant night up here.”

“That’s good. I’m working the late shift. I just got here and, of course, all the news is about the blackout. When I told my boss that Chip had just moved to New York City, he asked if I could reach him so they could interview him over the phone. I tried, but his cell phone is going right into voice mail. Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, I did. He was out on the town and sounded like he was enjoying himself. They may be having problems with cell phone reception.”

“He never turns off his cell phone,” Natalie said, worry creeping into her voice. “Where was he when you talked to him?”

“He said he was just wandering the streets with someone.”

“Who?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Do you think he might be with Phil?”