Tony Mazzetti had never experienced emotions like this. He was scared. Not the way he was scared of cockroaches or scared of the dentist; this feeling was on an entirely different level. Now, for the first time, he understood why families were so freaked out when someone was missing even if his experience told him they would turn up soon enough.

John Stallings had kept him calm when they were together, but now Stallings was out retracing her steps and Mazzetti was feeling the creep of panic rise in his throat with every phone call he made. He’d talked to Patty’s mother and tried not to alarm her; he told her he was a coworker of Patty’s. He doubted she’d been told of any real relationship between her daughter and him, but he sure as shit intended to start one up once he found her.

He focused on using his considerable experience and training to figure out who might know where Patty was. Whom she might have talked to. What she might have done. Somehow this was easier when he didn’t know the missing person and had no personal stake.

Lieutenant Hester was calling up some help right now to see if more people looking for her would make a difference as the command staff weighed the value of going to the media.

His phone’s ring made him jump as he racked his brain for ideas.

“Mazzetti, here.”

“Tony, it’s Hoagie.”

“Whaddya got?”

“We found her car at a Walmart a couple of blocks from her house.”

“Let’s get crime scene over there right now to see what we can find.”

“They’re here. Once they learned it had to do with a missing cop they got off their asses and were here at the same time as me.”

“Anything?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear about blood or anything else that would indicate she was hurt.

“Nothing.”

He relaxed, and, at the same time, was disappointed they didn’t have a lead to find her.

Christina Hogrebe said, “Tony, I mean nothing at all. Someone wiped down the steering wheel and driver’s door. There are no prints of value. We’re checking the store video now, but so far it doesn’t look as if she came inside.”

“Any outside cameras?”

“Not in the area where her Jeep was left.”

“Thanks, Hoagie. Keep on it.”

“Tony, you okay? You sound funny.”

“Just worried. We gotta find her.”

“We’ll break something open soon.”

He hung up without another word, hoping the young homicide detective was right.

William Dremmel’s head spun as the impact of what his mother had told him sunk in. He had seen her and the yardman’s son, Arthur, having sex. Many times. He would hide in the wide closet and watch them through the slats in the door. Arthur’s rock-hard, trim body and the way his mother would so carefully take him in her own small hands or how he would fondle her round breasts with pink nipples.

She was very pretty twenty-five years ago. She wore small, tight dresses and flirted with the neighbors. She even had her photo in the Times-Union once when they were all on Neptune Beach and she was in a bikini. The caption identified her as “Local beauty enjoying the sun at Neptune Beach.” She had the clipping somewhere in the house.

One Saturday in October, Dremmel remembered it was in the fall because he’d been teased by some kids for the Halloween costume he was previewing to everyone. It was a Wolf Man mask with hairy gloves he was supposed to wear with a long-sleeved shirt. Doug Cifers, from down the street, had called him a “were-dork” and made Dremmel cry as he ran back to his house, breathless and ready to tell his mom. He had vaguely noticed the old pickup truck with a hand-scrawled sign that said, “Whitley Yard Service,” parked down the block and Mr. Whitley pruning some trees as the sun started to set.

He rushed in the house, then toward his parent’s bedroom. The door was open just a crack and he froze, then peered around the door. His mother was on her knees, naked, and Arthur was standing in front of her.

He was fascinated. Arthur looked so happy as his mother’s head bobbed up and down.

Then he heard a noise, turned, and his heart almost stopped. Standing behind him also watching the show was his father.

John Stallings impatiently flicked open his phone, not bothering to even glance at the number. “Stallings,” he barked, keeping his pace on the sidewalk toward the front door to a family-run pharmacy.

“John, it’s Helen.”

He paused before asking what was wrong.

She added, “You know, your sister.”

“Funny, what’s up? I’m right in the middle of something.”

“So am I, and it’s called your fucked-up life.”

“What?”

“Maria is still sort of catatonic, and I think you need to be here.”

He sighed and stopped walking as he tried to think what to say and what to do.

“John, did you hear me? Your wife needs you here at home.”

“Are the kids okay?”

“Yeah, I drove them over to Mom’s under the guise that she needed help around the house for which they’d be paid a high hourly rate. But I could tell Lauren didn’t buy it.”

“Yeah, she’s smart. Nothing gets by her.”

“So let her see her father help her mother.”

Stallings shifted his weight from foot to foot, taking up the empty sidewalk with a nervous lateral shuffle. His mind raced through the responsibilities he had and the pressure of keeping it all together. He thought of Maria and how far she’d come. Then he imagined Patty in trouble, counting on him for a rescue. He needed a minute and took a deep breath, aware of the silence on the other end of the phone.

He almost told Helen he’d be right there, but he looked up at the pharmacy sign and thought of Patty. “Helen, I can’t make it right now. Something’s come up. We got a missing cop.”

“John, this is your life here. There’s always gonna be someone missing. You can’t be the only one looking.”

“No, but I am right now, and I need to be out here.”

“That’s one of the problems, John. You can’t see the difference between what you need to do and what you want to do.”

“I need to find this missing cop. Can you stay with Maria a little longer? Please, Sis.”

“You have to make a choice, John. Work or family, because I don’t think they can coexist any longer.”

“Were you always a ball breaker, or did you develop this attitude recently?”

“I learned it on the street when I ran away. I just never had to use it on you. You turned out to be the opposite of Dad. At least I thought you did. You need to get your shit together, little brother.”

“I appreciate you staying with her and helping. I swear I’ll…” She’d hung up on him before he made a promise he couldn’t keep.

Patty Levine had spent more than an hour breathing deeply and steadily, hoping to clear her mind so she could think her way out of the deep shit she was in. She had to stay calm not just for herself, but for the other prisoner, Stacey Hines. The younger woman, really just a girl, had talked nonstop after their captor had left, leaving them both conscious. Now Patty realized she wasn’t sure how long he’d be away. It was hard to imagine what this girl had gone through at the hands of this creep. It made Patty angry.

Patty knew the effort going into finding the missing Stacey. She’d been unaware anyone knew she was gone and cried when Patty told her that her father had been on the news appealing for the return of the young woman. Now the detective wondered if anyone had noticed she was missing. She wished she had more of a social life, and that was the irony. She was finally starting to get a life together and met someone who may be special. Did Tony Mazzetti figure out she was gone? Who knew how men thought? She hadn’t spoken to John Stallings, which was unusual, because for so long he had been the only person she spoke to every day.

She could only assume that between John and Tony someone had missed her and they were looking for her now. If John Stallings was on the case she had a better chance of being found. Once he got rolling there was no hope of stopping him. But she had learned over the years from both competition in gymnastics and police work that ultimately one could only depend on oneself. She had to act as if she were alone and had to do everything possible to protect Stacey and escape. Patty was no damsel in distress, and this creep would find that out when she got the chance.

She looked across the small room, taking in details. The terrazzo floor was clean but indicated an older home. The window had been bricked up by an amateur, displayed in the shoddy consistency and uneven nature of the mortar and crooked brick near the bottom left corner. The eyebolts in the wall were well secured, and Patty could tell she wouldn’t be able to shake either her hands or feet loose by unseating the steel bolts.

Patty said, “Stacey, has he ever slept in here with you?”

“I don’t think so. Once I’m out, I’m out.”

“Do you know what drugs he gives you to sleep?”

“He changes them up. He said he intends to find the perfect drug cocktail to keep me happy but sedated and docile.”

“Let’s not give him a reason to stop that experiment. As long as we’re in the experiment he won’t hurt us.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“He’s in some odd fantasy of conducting an experiment. We’re part of that fantasy.”

“He’s so crazy he seems normal.”

Patty agreed with that assessment, but it didn’t make her happy. There would be no way to reason with Dremmel. She shuddered at the thought of him using a stun gun on her. She just had to find a path, a chance to surprise this son of a bitch.

Stacey turned her head and said, “I think one of the drugs he uses is Ambien. Do you know what that is?”

Patty said, “Oh yeah, I know it.” And she saw a possible path to escape.