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an indication the situation could be worse than my terrible imaginings had been.
    Joe and Hogan called to report when they could, usually about every half hour. The oddities of west Michigan cell phonetower placement were such that they had cell phone service, even though we didn’t. They had to call on our landline.
    Gradually we learned more.
    When Joe had taken the tracking device to Hogan, the two of them examined it and decided that it seemed to be working. The device, they believed, was transmitting, and it was doing it from the end of Big Pine Road.
    So, riding in Hogan’s police chief car and using its powerful searchlight, they drove toward the end of Big Pine Road and slowly played the light over the edges of the road, looking for tire tracks or broken bushes and limbs. Near the end of the road they discovered a place where a car had run off the gravel road. Joe told me I could assure Tess that the place would have been invisible to an inexperienced person. For that matter, Joe and I had driven out there, too, and we hadn’t seen it.
    As soon as they knew where to look, they had easily found the white Lexus.
    â€œHogan said he didn’t know if he should be glad or sad when he saw it was empty,” Aunt Nettie said.
    Tess blamed herself for the whole situation. She didn’t cry hysterically; she just cried.
    â€œLee, I should have told you about this earlier,” she said. “When we first ran into each other at the motel. But I just couldn’t believe anything had happened to Jeff. I felt sure he had discovered the bug and thrown it in the bushes.”
    â€œI would have thought the same thing you did,” I said. “Or I’d have believed that the device fell off. Or somehow got on another car. Or something.”
    We both mopped our eyes again.
    â€œWhat I still don’t understand,” I said, “is why on earth Jeffwould have gone to the end of Big Pine Road. That’s the big mystery.”
    Aunt Nettie kept a more positive outlook. “Tess,” she said, “when they find Jeff, you’ll be responsible for saving his life. No one would have thought to look out there—maybe not for months—if it weren’t for the bug you planted.”
    Tess sobbed. Even two friendly people patting her were no help. About midnight she fell asleep, sitting upright in the corner of the couch, with a sodden Kleenex in her hand. Neither Aunt Nettie nor I made a noise that might wake her. The girl was exhausted.
    By twelve thirty Aunt Nettie had also fallen asleep, and I must have been dozing as well, because when the phone rang, we all jumped. In fact, the portable phone from the kitchen was in my lap, and I twitched so hard I dropped it and had to scrabble around, pulling it toward me with my crutch, before I could answer.
    It was Hogan giving another report of no results. But he ended with a request.
    â€œCan you ask Tess if Jeff usually kept his cell phone on his person?”
    I had the phone on speaker, and Tess had heard him. “Yes,” she said. “He usually kept it in his pants pocket.”
    â€œI’m going to try calling Jeff’s phone,” Hogan said. “Tess, what kind of ringtone did he have?”
    She said it was the one called “blues,” because “he likes everything retro.”
    â€œGood thing it isn’t like frogs chirping,” Hogan said. “There’re already enough of those out here. We’d never ID the sound.”
    He hung up, and I dropped the portable phone in my lap.Then I jumped again, because I immediately heard the faint sound of the blues ringtone.
    My first thought was that I was still connected with Hogan, and that I was hearing the blues ring through the line. But when I checked my phone, it was definitely turned off. Disconnected.
    But the sound of the blues ringtone continued. I was quite familiar with the sound, of course. Working with thirty women, I heard every