Chapter Four
“I don’t like this,” Andy said.
It was dark out already, and eight hours had passed since he’d waited for his daughter to walk through that sliding glass door at the airport. He stood on the front porch in the dark, though the inside of the house offered some light. He looked over to his wife, who’d pulled on a heavy sweater and was now standing beside him. He could hear the voices of his family, of everyone, inside. He didn’t have a clue what to do.
“You called Blake, right?” Laura said.
Andy didn’t know what to say to that. His friend, the sheriff, had little pull in any other jurisdiction. The distance was killing him. “He made some calls for me to the Boston PD, someone he knows or used to know. Can’t remember what he said. But a missing person requires a twenty-four h
