Within seconds, Jack’s office was empty.

They were all racing to get to the Upper West Side of Manhattan as soon as possible, hoping against hope that Huckleberry Darling would be in residence.

He’s our only chance, Regan thought anxiously as the police vehicle, siren blaring and lights flashing, sped through a pitch-black Manhattan.

44

P hil and Dodie walked down Eighty-eighth Street to East End Avenue and entered Carl Schurz Park. Once the private garden of Gracie Mansion, the official residence of the mayor of the city of New York, it was now a fourteen-acre neighborhood oasis, with beautiful views of the East River and the surrounding bridges. As Phil and Dodie followed the park’s winding paths, they scanned the landscape with their flashlights. The only people they encountered were out strolling with their dogs.

“They’re not here,” Phil finally said. “Let’s head up toward Central Park. I’d like to stop by Lonnie’s first and see if there are any more people who might want to join us.”

“Sure.”

As they walked along, saying nothing, Dodie finally felt compelled to break the silence. “How are you doing?”

“Not so well.”

“Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“Don’t be sorry. I just can’t stop thinking about Chip. He is such a good guy. I just know he’s never been mean to a girl. In fact, he’s polite to a fault. If any guy doesn’t deserve having a woman taking out her frustrations on him, it’s Chip.” Phil shuddered. “I can’t imagine having a brand like that on my arm for the rest of my life. But if she slipped him a drug his body can’t handle…”

The sound of happy, vibrant mambo music interrupted him. It was the ring Phil had chosen for his cell phone, but at this moment it frayed his nerves. He pulled the phone off his belt and answered quickly. Chip’s sister, Natalie, was calling from San Diego. Understandably, she was a wreck.

“Phil, is there any news?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“No, Natalie. We’re out looking for Chip right now.”

“I wish I could get on a plane, but there are no flights to New York. I’ve been researching knockout drops. They are very dangerous if you have respiratory problems. Do you remember last year when Chip had walking pneumonia? It was really bad.”

“Yes,” Phil answered, his voice tight.

“And he’s just getting over a cold. He was still coughing when I talked to him yesterday.”

“Natalie, we’re going to find him,” Phil said, forcing optimism into his voice.

“My parents are driving down to the city. I’m so worried about them, too. They’re upset and it’s late and the roads are dark.”

“They insisted.”

“I don’t blame them, I’d do the same. But please, Phil, call me back soon. Even if there’s nothing new. Sitting here waiting for the phone to ring is torture.”

“I promise, Natalie.”

She started to cry. “He’s my little brother. He needs my help, and I can’t be there for him.”