When she hung up, Regan called Detective McFadden in Atlanta and asked him to find out about the song and to ask Paulette if she knew where Georgina’s grandmother had lived. Paulette had never heard Georgina mention the song, but she did remember that the grandmother had lived somewhere on the Lower East Side. She didn’t have a specific address.

Regan got the crowd’s attention again and told them of the phone call Chip’s parents had received. “We’ve got to move fast. Chip might already be drugged. Remember, safety in numbers. Please be careful.”

Regan turned to Conrad who was standing with Kit, Alexis, Becky, Dodie, and Phil.

“Where do you want us to go?” Conrad asked.

“Let’s see. Phil’s friends are covering the Upper East Side…”

Phil nodded. “Dodie and I will also stay around here. I know this area and will be keeping in close touch with Josh. I don’t want the search parties to lose any momentum if in a couple of hours—” He stopped speaking, unable to continue.

“That’s a great idea, Phil,” Regan said quickly. “Conrad, why don’t you drive Becky and Alexis around Tribeca? I know you’re familiar with that part of the city. There are a lot of isolated areas down by the river where they could be. My group will cover the Lower East Side. That’s where Georgina’s grandmother lived. Maybe she took Chip for a stroll down memory lane.”

“Of course, Regan.” Conrad started toward his car, then turned back and grabbed Regan’s hand. “I can only imagine how his parents must feel. We’ll drive around all night until we find him.”

“Thanks, Conrad. By the way, you have a lovely daughter.”

He smiled. “I know. I’m very lucky.”

As they got into their cars, Regan kept having the same thought. If Georgina planned to pull this same crime off in Manhattan tonight, without a car, then she must have had some location in mind. She couldn’t just drive around looking for a perfect spot like she could in the other cities. But where in Manhattan could it be?

And why did she choose it?

38

R od, the contractor, and his wife, Lee, were sitting at the patio table on the deck he’d built right outside their kitchen. The kids were in bed, and they were enjoying a quiet drink. An old transistor radio with its volume turned down was between them. They’d listened on and off to updates about the blackout.

“Keep your fingers crossed,” Rod said. “If the blackout lasts through tomorrow morning, I don’t have to give the Reillys an excuse for not showing up until Wednesday.”

Lee, a bouncy, vibrant woman laughed. “I don’t know how you do all that juggling. My stomach would be in knots.”

“Don’t worry, my sweet,” Rod said with a casual wave of his hand. “They all love me in the end.” Hearing the music that preceded breaking news, he turned up the volume on the radio.

“And now,” a male announcer proclaimed, “we have a special report from outside One Police Plaza. What have you got for us, Gina?”