And the traffic was stopped. Up in the distance, he could see the flash of red ambulance lights.
“Damn it,” he cursed, opening his phone. He dialed home, left Betsy a message: “I’m stuck in traffic, Betsy. Just sit tight. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Six o’clock at the very latest. Call me if you want. I’m on my cell.”
He sat … and sat … and sat in the middle of a clog of cars, with rain blurring his windshield. All the while, he felt his blood pressure rising, but there was nothing he could do about it. At 5:40, he called home again. “Damn it, Betsy, pick up.” When she didn’t, he snapped the phone shut and dialed his mom at home. She didn’t answer either, so he left another message.
It was almost 6:20 when the barricades were cleared and traffic started up again. Michael hit the gas—too hard—and gunned for home. He had a pounding headache by the time he pulled into the day care parking lot. Inside the small well-tended house, he found the teacher waiting for him. “I’m sorry,” he said, raking the hair back from his face. “There was an accident on the Narrows. Ugly. I got here as quickly as I could.”
She nodded. “Things happen. I know. But Lulu’s upset.” She stepped aside.
Through an open door, Michael saw Lulu sitting all alone in a brightly colored playroom surrounded by dolls and stuffed animals.
“You’re late,” she said, looking up at him. “All the other mommies were already here.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He helped her into her coat, said good-bye to the teacher, and carried her out to the car.
Lulu didn’t talk to him all the way home, but to be honest the last thing he had to worry about these days was pissing off a four-year-old.
In the house, he patted her butt and told her to be good. “Betsy! I’m home,” he yelled, closing the door behind him. “I know you’re pissed, but come down and talk to me.”
He tossed his briefcase on the kitchen table and loosened his tie. “Betsy?” he yelled again.
“She’s not here,” Lulu said, coming into the room.
“What?” Michael looked down. “What do you mean?”
Lulu stood there, holding her ratty yellow blanket. “Betsy’s not home.”
“What?” He yelled it so loud Lulu looked startled. He ran past her and up the stairs; at Betsy’s room, he shoved the door open, yelling for her.
No answer.
He ran through the house, yelling until he knew: she wasn’t here.
Downstairs, Lulu was crying. “She’s gone. Oh, no … someone stoled her.”
“No one stole her,” he muttered angrily as he went to the phone and called his mom at home. When she picked up, he said, “Why don’t you listen to your messages? Is Betsy with you?”
“What? I just got home. What’s going on?”
“I got home late,” he said, cursing under his breath. “She’s not here.” He hung up before his mom could answer. Fear latched into him, deep and profound. “I’ll call her friends,” he said, picking up the phone again, then pausing. “Lulu, quit crying, damn it. Who are Betsy’s friends?”
Lulu wailed. “I don’t know. She’s gone.”
He called the school and listened to the after-hours message.
With a curse, he hung up.
“Maybe she ranned away,” Lulu said.
Michael went out to the porch. The rain was falling hard; it studded the grass, collected in muddy puddles in the driveway. He thought about the bay, the deep cold of the water and its allure for his children. “Betsy! Where are you?”
The more he yelled her name, the more Lulu cried and the more Michael panicked. What in the hell had he been thinking? He should have left his car downtown and walked on the damn ferry and taken a cab. Or he could have called Carl. Why hadn’t he thought of that then? Damn. What if some guy had watched Betsy get out of the car, followed her up to an empty house…？
Yelling her name again, he grabbed Lulu as if she were a football, perpendicular to his body, and ran through the rain toward the neighbor’s house. Resettling her as he ran, he made it to Carl and Tami’s house in less than a minute. He pounded on the door.
Carl opened the door. “Michael, what’s up?”
Michael wiped the rain from his eyes. “Betsy’s not home and she should be. I thought maybe she came over here.”
Carl slowly shook his head, and Michael felt his stomach plunge. He thought for a second he might be sick.