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never successfully matched.
    Geary reread the article. Then it hit him. The Winfrey kid’s arm was found on the tenth of September. His mother went missing a week before, on a Monday.
    Monday, September third.
    The son’s arm turned up seven days after the mother disappeared.
    Geary opened Ruth’s desk calendar — the gardens of Monet, recent months starkly blank — and checked today’s date. It was September fourth.
    That meant Janice Winfrey disappeared seven years ago yesterday. Exactly seven years before Emily Parker vanished from a parking lot.
    And Emily Parker had two young sons.
    Geary’s brain did a flip.
    He picked up his cordless phone from where it was lying next to its base, but when he pressed TALK there was nothing. Damn battery. He cradled it and went to the kitchen. He didn’t like to use the creamy white princess phone on the counter because it reminded him of Ruth, stretching the extra-long coil so she could talk while she cooked. She wouldn’t have a cordless phone, she liked dancing with this one. He lifted the handset and dialed Roger Bell from memory.
    “Good morning, John.”
    “Caller ID, you’re not that smart, Bell.”
    Bell’s grainy voice chuckled.
    “I’m calling for a reason.”
    “Did you stub your toe getting out of bed again?”
    “Hardy har har. Don’t make me laugh this early. I’ll burst a hemorrhoid and you’re the only doctor I’d let fix it.”
    “Now, John, you know I delve best into the bowels of the mind.”
    “Yeah, I know, and mine’s a cesspool. Can we be serious for a minute? And don’t say—”
    “I was being serious.”
    “Now listen to me, Roger. I might have a case. A repeater.”
    “Oh?”
    “From the cold files. Something that might match a new missing persons. I’ve got a strong hunch about this and I want to brief you on it later if you have time.”
    “Not on anyone’s payroll, I’d wager.”
    “Roger, I tagged you as a consult onto my cases for years. This one you’ll do for the book.”
    “Of course I will,” Bell said. “Have you had breakfast?”
    “I ate at five. I’ve got something I need to do right now. I’ll fill you in at lunch, high noon, Lizzy’s Diner.”
    “Noon, then.”
    Geary hung up, opened the fridge and took a long swig of orange juice from the carton. For the first time in his life, this was something he could do without annoying someone; but after all that waiting, it really wasn’t so much fun. He used the palm of his hand to wipe a dribble of juice off his chin and put the carton back in the fridge. There wasn’t much in there to eat.
    Seemed like he could use some groceries. Maybe he’d try that big new Super Stop & Shop across from the Mashpee Commons. If Emily Parker shopped there, it was good enough for him.

Chapter 4
    The police station coffee had fried Will’s nerves, and now, as he drove up 151 to the Mashpee rotary, he had to take yawning breaths to keep steady. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his palms burned. Sweat trickled down his back and bled a wet stripe down his shirt. Emily had to be somewhere, didn’t she? She didn’t go shopping, then vaporize. Did she? He counted four deep breaths as he waited at the red light intersecting the Mashpee Commons and the new shopping center just across the street. The kids would be waking up by now. He hoped Sarah could pull herself together. He would check in on them later, reassure them. At the green arrow, he turned left and drove past a yellow clapboard drive-through bank, a liquor store and a high-end kitchen design center. Just around the corner was the Stop & Shop. People ambled from the parking lot into the store, and out with their overstuffed carts, as if it was a normal early morning. He envied them the simplicity of their shopping. Just yesterday, Emily had been one of them. She had gone into the store, and come out; that much he knew.
    He drove into the parking lot. It was just past seven and there weren’t too many cars. Most