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parole, anyone who could plausibly be the abductor. Maybe by six o’clock tomorrow morning, when the early local news hits the air, they’ll have something, more than they have now.
    Regardless of what they have, they’re going to have to go with it. And then, Doug Lancaster knows, he and his family will be living in a glass house.
    Glenna and Doug are bunkered in the smaller of their two studies. Doug has his drink now, a healthy shot of Laphroig. Glenna’s on her fourth glass of chardonnay. They stare at each other, at the phone, but they don’t talk.
    Doug makes one call, to Fred Hampshire, his lawyer. Hampshire is shocked at the news. He offers to cut out of the dinner party he’s hosting and come over immediately, but Doug demurs. There’s nothing Fred can do. There’s nothing anyone can do right now, except hope and pray. They’ll get together tomorrow, after the police have sifted through the evidence they’ve collected and come up with a plan of action.
    Occasionally the telephone rings, in a normal fashion. None of these calls are about Emma; no one outside of the immediate parties knows what’s happened. The police discussed the situation with Lisa and her mother, and Hillary and her parents. This is a very delicate matter; if word were to get out prematurely, or the wrong way, it could have disastrous consequences.
    Among the few people who have heard about Emma’s disappearance are their household employees. Shortly after the police arrived in force, Doug called Maria Gonzalez, their house manager, at her home, and asked her to return immediately. When she did, he told her what had maybe happened.
    She immediately started rounding everyone up. They’re all here now, whether or not they have the weekend off. They move about the house unobtrusively, quiet as phantoms. They have talked about this with each other, professing to each other that it’s a mystery to them. Emma is precocious and headstrong, they all know that, but she’s never been in any real trouble—no brushes with the law, even for ticky-tack stuff, never been known to take drugs. The word that there was marijuana found in the gazebo is a mild hiccup, nothing more, and finding it there doesn’t mean Emma or her friends were indulging.
    If anyone was out there smoking, the majority of the staff think, it would have been Glenna. They know she indulges with her artistic acquaintances from the growing film and television colony that’s migrated up here in the last decade.
    Maria raps lightly on the door to the study, pokes her head in. “Would you like something to eat?” she asks solicitously. She’s been with them for more than ten years; they’re almost as important in her life as her own family, Emma as much a daughter to her as her own children.
    Glenna, rooted to her spot on the sofa, shakes her head. Doug gets up and walks to the door. “We’re not hungry, but thanks, Maria.” He pauses. “Make sure no one uses the first two phone lines, okay?” he reminds her for the umpteenth time.
    He doesn’t have to say why. They all know to stay off the phones.
    “Of course, Mr. Lancaster. Let us know if you need anything.” She closes the door behind her.
    He comes back and sits next to his wife. “This could be completely different from what we think.” The bullshit sticks in his throat, even as he speaks it.
    Her eyes are bloodshot as she stares at him. “How?” she asks hoarsely. “She’s never done anything remotely like this.” She swigs the last of the wine in her glass. “Lisa saw it, for Christsakes!” she rants. “Has everyone forgotten that? She saw Emma being carried out of the room!”
    Doug nods. That’s irrefutable, however the police want to spin it. The girl was only half awake and she didn’t actually see Emma in the blanket, that’s the only straw they can grasp at for now.
    If there was someone in there—and all the evidence is pointing to that and only that: a missing girl, an awakening but still