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culprits. I was afraid that in his mind, it would be a convenient way to explain what had happened and he wouldn’t be as vigorous in his pursuit of discovering whatever had happened to Mary.
    Of course, I couldn’t escape from my own thoughts and questions. Was this turmoil I had been experiencing the reason I had neglected her, hadn’t noticed she was gone? If so, it was even more my fault. I knew that the first question out of John’s mouth when we were alone would be, “Did you take one of your pills before you went to the mall?”
    Would he believe me if I told him no?
    Would I believe myself?

 
    3

    Ringing
    Lieutenant Abraham’s FBI friend was waiting at the house with a team to tap our phones and run the sting operation and retrieval of Mary in the event that ransom was indeed the purpose for her abduction. Although he was as tall and as stocky as I’d imagined an FBI agent to be, David Joseph had a soft, almost feminine face, with eyelashes most women would die for. He had thin lips and a light complexion, almost tissue-white, emphasized more because of his carrot top and the freckles on the crests of his cheeks. I thought he had a comforting smile and imagined he was successful in his work because of how quickly he might put a nervous mother especially at ease.
    He introduced me to his two accompanying agents. Agent Frommer was a much tougher-looking, dark-haired man, with lines etched so deeply in his chiseled face that they looked almost like scars. The other associate, a female agent, looked older than both of them, but Tracey Dickinson had no gray in her closely cropped mahogany-brown hair. Her smile was more like the flash on a camera, but I wasn’t looking for sympathy, only competence.
    When I went to open the front door so they could enter with their equipment, the reality of my returning without Mary struck me like a severe blow to the back of my neck. I moaned, gasped, and would have sunk to the walkway if Lieutenant Abraham hadn’t shot forward to wrap his arms around my waist. I leaned against him, my eyes closed.
    “Easy,” he whispered. He gently took the key from my hand and gave it to Agent Joseph. “Let’s get you inside and lying down.”
    I regained some of my composure, but I really didn’t feel my legs. He was holding me up until we turned into the living room and he guided me to the sofa. Tracey Dickinson rushed forward to place a pillow against the side so I could lie back.
    “I’ll get you a glass of water,” Lieutenant Abraham said, and went to find the kitchen.
    The FBI agents began to set up their equipment while David Joseph explained what they hoped to accomplish.
    “If this is a ransom grab, we’d expect the call to come soon,” he said. “They usually do by now, especially when they’ve taken a girl as young as your daughter.”
    Lieutenant Abraham returned with a glass of water. I sat up to drink. He fixed his eyes intently on me, looking as if he was ready to lunge forward should I suddenly become unsteady.
    “But what if it’s not for ransom?” I asked.
    “Rest assured, we’re out there in every way we can be. Every airport and exit into Mexico and Canada—all have copies of your daughter’s picture and description.”
    “But what if they didn’t take her for that? What if . . .”
    “Take it easy, Mrs. Clark,” Lieutenant Abraham said softly. “David’s team will cover all bases. Would you rather I helped you up to your bedroom for now? Maybe you should . . .”
    “Until her husband arrives, we’ll need her near the phone,” David Joseph said.
    “I’m okay. I’ll be fine,” I said.
    I lowered myself back onto the pillow. My left arm grazed the rich cherry-wood side table, and one of the books John had been reading on the changing American economy slipped off. Lieutenant Abraham moved quickly to pick it up and place it back on the table.
    Our eyes met again, and if I needed any reminder about what he and the others were doing there,