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that make sense?”
    “More sense than anything anyone else has said,” I said with relief.
    Drew had put into words what I couldn’t. He strengthened my belief that Greg could not have left us. He was right. Greg, above all, had a ridiculously strong sense of responsibility. He was never late on a bill or even a library book. He’d never received a parking ticket. He believed the speed limit was absolute, that rules were meant to be followed, not broken. Leaving his family would have been the most out of character act I could imagine. I felt a release, an exhaled breath of air.
    “So now what?” Drew asked.
    We sat in silence, thinking, tapping our coffee mugs.
    Finally, Drew said, “I think we need to go to Rochester.”
    Chapter 7
    I did not tell Detective Reynolds that Drew and I were going. I knew he would try very hard to stop us, and I feared that he could. Interference with an investigation was possibly a crime. Maybe he could call me a suspect in order to keep me in the state. I had no idea if that was realistic or if my fears were based on what I’d seen on television.
    The next day, I asked Mom to stay with the girls while we went.
    She agreed with raised eyebrows. “I think the police—”
    “We’ll take them for as long as you need, sweetheart.” Dad hushed her concerns with a wave of his hand and pulled me into an infrequent hug. “Whatever you need us to do.”
    Drew and I packed the SUV with enough clothes and toiletries for four days. We didn’t make a hotel reservation. I wanted to stay at the same hotel where Greg registered, but Drew convinced me it would be too macabre. I kissed the girls goodbye with a heavy heart. Instead of having a mother that was present in body, but not in mind, they wouldn’t have a mother around at all. I turned my head when I hugged Hannah so she wouldn’t see my tears.
    “Are you going to bring Daddy and Cody back?” Hannah asked.
    “I’m going to try, Hannah-banana.” I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that even if I figured out what happened to Greg, Cody most likely wasn’t with him.
    “I love you,” Hannah said.
    “I love you more,” I whispered. I kissed Leah, cupping her small head against my shoulder.
    As Drew backed the SUV out of the driveway, I watched Mom usher the kids into the house, probably singing brightly to keep their attention. They’d forget I was gone in no time at all. I had to believe that.
    We rode in silence. I had no words in me—a recurring issue lately. I’d lost the ability to function in the real world, to make small talk with the grocery store clerk or the mailman. Some of the neighbors had heard about Greg’s disappearance. Pastor Joe had come over earlier on Sunday to say he had prayed for us. I thanked him, but had nothing else to add. After a lengthy pause, he began to shift his weight uneasily, then asked if we needed anything before he left, hurrying down the walk.
    I didn’t know if my continued silence came from grief, fear, or anger, but I knew I radiated hostility. I felt completely ill at ease having a conversation at all, as if I might accidentally blurt, “Greg didn’t leave us,” during any conversation. I was so afraid of appearing desperate and reinforcing the image of a woman whose husband would pick up and leave without even a goodbye. Since desperation filled my thoughts, I kept them in, hidden from the world. Instead of projecting the image of a calm, pulled-together woman handling a crisis, I came off brittle, fragile, tenuous. I didn’t care. I felt as Greg must have with all my incessant questioning–violated and shut off from the world, until my only choice was to turn inward. I reveled in sweet silence.
    We stopped for gas in Binghamton, right over the New York state line.
    After filling the tank, Drew climbed back in the car and clapped his hands with exaggerated brightness. “Okay, what’s our game plan?”
    I couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm for the “game.” I shrugged and