“Check.”
“I need a wristwatch, too,” Danny said.
“All I have is what I’m wearing. I left the other watches… behind. At home.”
“I’ll need it.”
“Christ,” Galvin said. He unbuckled the brown leather strap of his Patek Philippe and gave it to Danny. “This wasn’t cheap. How’m I supposed to check the time?” He seemed to be complaining almost by rote. His heart wasn’t in it. He looked distracted, tentative. As if he’d been hollowed out.
“Use your BlackBerry,” Danny said. “I’m sorry. Now we need to check cell phone reception.”
“I get a full five bars here.”
“Out on the water,” Danny said. “I need to know how far out you can go and still get at least two bars of signal. You need to be making and receiving calls on your BlackBerry when you’re offshore.”
Galvin nodded. “I’ll take her out into the harbor. I got nothing to do but wait.”
Danny looked at his own watch again. “Not much longer,” he said. “You need to get on the boat. You shouldn’t be standing around here. Where’s all your stuff?”
Galvin gestured with a toss of his head. Just the one remaining duffle bag.
“Is this it?” Danny said. “All your worldly possessions?”
“It’s an interesting exercise, packing for the rest of your life. How much do you really need? What do you absolutely have to have with you? And you realize pretty quickly that you can’t pack everything, so instead you pack almost nothing. You can’t pack for years, so you pack for a few days.”
“Probably better not to bring much of your old life with you. The fewer things to connect you to who you were, the better.”
“I never thought it was going to be easy to leave my family,” Galvin said slowly. “I just didn’t expect it to hit me so hard.”
“It’ll probably hit you even harder later on.”
Galvin nodded. His eyes were rimmed in red and glistened.
“Even harder because they don’t know,” Danny said.
“Just Celina. She knows. Jenna asked why I was making such a big deal out of a business trip.”
“Sweet Home Alabama” blared tinnily, and Galvin pulled out his BlackBerry.
“Lina, querida,” he said softly. Then, louder: “What?” His eyes widened. “You’re kidding me. Hold on.” To Danny, he said, “You have any idea where the girls have gone?”
“What?”
“Celina went upstairs to get them for dinner, and they’re gone. Both of them.”
“They-they must be somewhere in the house. It’s big enough to get lost in.”
Galvin shook his head. “No. Celina’s Range Rover is missing, too.”
“Christ. I assume Celina called Jenna’s cell phone.”
Galvin nodded brusquely. “No answer.”
“Try again. I’ll try Abby’s.”
They both punched speed-dial numbers on their mobile phones.
“I told her not to shut off her phone when she goes somewhere,” Danny said, more to himself than to Galvin.
“No answer,” Galvin said. “Until I know where they are, I’m not getting on my boat. Not until I know for sure my girl is okay.”
Abby’s voice mail came right on after a single ring. “Same here,” Danny said.
“Jenna, it’s Daddy,” Galvin said into his phone. “Your mother and I are worried about you. I told you, we all have to stay inside the house until this all… blows over. Now, you-call me as soon as you get this message. Please.”
Danny didn’t bother leaving a message. He disconnected the call. The last time Abby had disappeared and gone radio silent, she’d gotten her nose pierced. How utterly benign that now seemed.
“I’m going to find them,” he said.
84
Dr. Mendoza looked around the grand room, admiring its wainscoted walls of deep, rich oak. All around the room were hung large gilt-framed oil portraits of the school’s headmistresses, going back to the founder, Miss Alice Lyman, in the early nineteenth century.
In his well-cut serge suit and red tie, he knew he looked distinguished and prosperous. He looked like a Lyman Academy father. In fact, several parents and administrators had nodded and smiled at him, not sure who he was but never questioning that he belonged.
He peered pleasantly around as if looking for his wife or his daughter.
The problem was that he had no idea of his target’s appearance.
He knew, of course, what her father looked like. But the father wasn’t here.
It had been a stroke of luck that he’d seen the girls driving out of Galvin’s property. A gift, really. They were here somewhere; they had to be. But where?
The students and their parents, he noticed, were socializing separately, parents with parents and girls with girls. He sensed a great deal of nervous energy in the room. He could see it particularly in the overwrought expressions on the parents’ faces, their frantic good cheer.
He stopped one of the girls. In his most solicitous tone he said, “Where can I find Abby Goodman?”
The girl pointed toward a small cluster of students.
“Ah, yes, there she is!” Dr. Mendoza said. “Thank you so much.”
85
There was no direct route from the yacht club to the Lyman Academy, so Danny had to navigate the Honda through a maze of city streets, from Commercial Wharf to Tremont Street, poking along maddeningly, a sclerotic steel artery of rush-hour traffic.
He cursed aloud. “Move, goddammit!” Every few moments he alternated redialing Abby’s and Jenna’s phones. Each call went to voice mail. After the first few, he stopped leaving messages.
When he was still a few miles from school, Jenna picked up. Danny was so startled he almost sideswiped a cab.
“Um, hi, Mr. Goodman,” Jenna said tonelessly.
“Jenna! Is Abby with you?”
There was a long silence. Then: “I mean…” and another long pause.
“Look, your dad and I know you left the house. Where the hell are you? Are you at school?”
Jenna didn’t reply. He understood what had happened: Abby didn’t want to miss College Night, and Jenna wanted to take her there.
“Jenna, please put Abby on right now!”
Jenna sighed loudly. “I just dropped her off, like, ten minutes ago. I couldn’t find a place to park. I’m still, like, circling around.”
Lyman’s grounds were large, but for some reason it was always difficult to find parking on busy nights. Several small parking lots were nestled among the trees, attractively landscaped and unobtrusive. But never enough spaces.
“She went into the College Night assembly?”
Silence.
“Jenna, this is important. You guys have to get back home. It’s not safe. Now, tell Abby to call me immediately.”
“I mean, you tried her phone, probably, right?”
“I’m on my way into school. Where are you right now?”
“I’m just circling around, like-”
“Call Abby for me, can you do that? Please!”
Then Danny hung up.
86
“Excuse me-Abby?” Dr. Mendoza said. “Abby Goodman, yes?”
“Yes?” The girl looked at him warily.
“Oh, thank goodness. Your father needs you at once.”
“Um, w-wait, who are you?”
“He’s okay, but your father’s been in a terrible accident.” He took her by the elbow and gently escorted her toward the hall. “Come this way, please. Quickly.”
“What?” the girl cried. “Oh my God!”
“He’s at Mass General, and he’s been asking for you. My name is Dr. Mendoza. I’m a Lyman father, and I just got a text from a colleague of mine at the hospital.”
“Oh my God oh my God. What happened to him?”
“Please-quickly!” Dr. Mendoza said. He began striding rapidly toward the exit. Daniel Goodman’s daughter now hurried alongside. “There was a multiple-car collision on the pike not far from Weston.”