Hangman

“It’s true. For as long as I’ve played, I should be better.”

“How could you be any better?”

She had asked the question with utter sincerity. Gabe had to smile. “Thanks. I’ll contact you the next time I need an ego boost.”

“We’re pretty bad, huh.”

“It’s fine.”

Mrs. Kent came over. “How long are you going to be visiting with us, Mr…?”

“Whitman,” Gabe said.

“A day or two,” Hannah answered for him.

“Have you ever considered transferring to the school? We do have an orchestra and we always have room for a soloist.”

Gabe said, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Have you ever performed any solo pieces?”

There wasn’t any way in hell he was going to play for her. He wanted anonymity, not attention. “Not for a while. I’m a little rusty.”

“I’d love to hear you when you feel up to it.”

“Sure. Another time.”

When the teacher left, Hannah whispered, “I’m so sorry. She’s relentless.”

“She’s just being a teacher.” He paused. “Hannah, if I have to come back with you tomorrow, do you think I can practice when no one’s using the room? I mean it’s really silly for me to be in your school trying to learn anything. My time would be better spent practicing. I mean, it’s not that I have to play. But playing calms me down.”

“I’m sure it’s okay, but you’ll have to ask permission from Mrs. Kent.” Hannah raised her eyebrows. “I’m warning you that if you do, you’ll make a deal with the devil. In exchange, she’ll make you come to orchestra while you’re here.”

“So I’ll come. As long as I don’t have to solo.”

“Got it. But you might want to reconsider about orchestra. We are truly bad! Worse than the choir.”

“It’s fine, Hannah. I’ve gone through a lot hairier things than a few bad notes.”

“If it were just a few, I wouldn’t say anything.” She wagged a finger at his face. “And stop looking so cute. You’re distracting the entire soprano section. And in case you haven’t noticed, they have enough trouble staying on key.”

AFTER THE BLANCS had left his office, Decker felt as if he had taken off a winter jacket in an overheated room: twenty pounds lighter and he could finally take a deep breath. Kathy Blanc had told him that her daughter’s apartment appeared in order, but she admitted that she hadn’t looked too closely.

Decker started working on scheduling his time. He’d manage a quick stop at home for dinner and then he’d go over to Adrianna’s place…or maybe he should go down to St. Tim’s and see what Marge and Oliver were doing. His mind was elsewhere when his cell rang and he neglected to pay attention to the caller ID number. Didn’t matter because the number was blocked, but the voice told him who it was in the single word.

“What?”

Sounding more annoyed than anxious, but that was typical Do-natti. Decker’s heart started jogging. “Your cell out of order, Chris? I’ve been calling you for the last twenty-four hours.”

“You know how it is, Decker. Sometimes you just don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Where have you been?”

“Where have I been?” A laugh over the phone. “What difference does it make?”

“Just wondering what could have kept you so preoccupied that you wouldn’t bother checking your phone calls.”

Another laugh. “You sound pissed.”

“Where have you been?”

“Now you sound like you’re interrogating me. I don’t like your tone. Matter of fact, I don’t like you. You’ve got two seconds to tell me what you want before I hang up.”

“You don’t want to call me back, fine. But I would think you’d answer your son’s calls. He was so upset that he called me.” There was the expected pause. It could have been real or staged. “We’ve got ourselves a big problem, Chris. Terry’s missing.”

This time the pause was much longer. “Go on.”

The anger was gone, but his voice remained flat. Decker said, “That’s it. Terry’s missing.”

“What do you mean, missing?”

“We can’t find her—”

“I fucking know what the word ‘missing’ means. What do you mean that she’s missing?”

Donatti had gone from zero to sixty in five seconds. He was clearly agitated, but that could be staged as well. The veracity of his emotions was impossible to read over the phone. “You need to come into the station house, Chris. We need to talk.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Your son called me yesterday around nine in the evening. He was distraught. When he got back to the hotel at seven, Terry was gone. She wasn’t answering her cell phone, so he called you. When he couldn’t get hold of either of his parents, he called me. So I took him in for the night because he didn’t want to sleep at his aunt’s house. So now I’m responsible for your kid until you get here. Where are you?”

“I’m in Nevada. My receptionist told me you called.”

“You need to come to L.A. We need to talk.”

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know and that’s why we need to talk—”

“So fucking talk!”

“Not over the phone,” Decker said calmly. “In person. You’ve got to come here anyway. Your son is here, remember?”

“Okay, okay, lemme think a moment.” He was muttering to himself. “When did she…I mean how long has she been missing?”

“Long enough that there may be a problem—”

“Is her car gone?”