Jack was told about Dana missing by his boss, who recalled him from an exhaustive search of the cliffs around the coast — they were searching for other hiding places.
"What is it, sir?" he asked, wondering.
"Have a seat, Detective Taylor," the superintendent, Mr. Whitman, ordered. Jack sat, wondering.
Usually, for brief conversations, there was no need to seat.
And why was he being briefed in private?
Mr. Whitman was not a man who reserved praise — or criticism — for private occasions, dishing it all out in public.
"There is no way to tell this to a police officer," Mr. Whitman said. "We go into this to serve and protect, aware of the dangers it brings us. But sometimes, it is our families who suffer."
Jack froze. There were two options.
His mother, who was safe, half a continent a
