the hotelâs. Privacy. I got it, but that didnât mean I liked it.
Jonah closed the door behind us, leaving the DO NOT DISTURB sign in place.
Ellis thanked him, and we left.
As we walked down the freshly shoveled pathway to the parking lot, I asked, âWhat do we do now?â
Ellis double-clicked his remote, and the SUVâs lights flicked on and off.
âWe find him.â
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Tyâs flight landed at Bostonâs Logan Airport on time at six, and he got home just before eight thirty. After a late dinner, Ty and I went over to Zoëâs for dessert, Ellisâs brownies, warm from the oven. I sat on the floor by the fire, leaning against a pillow, braced against a club chair. Ty sat in the chair. If I leaned my head to the right, I could nuzzle his knee with my cheek.
âThereâs more than ninety-five thousand miles of shoreline in the country,â Ty said, âthe overwhelming majority of it unmonitored. We want to set up trip wires, figuratively speaking. Thatâs why my boss formed this committeeâto identify and implement tactics to spot breaches sooner, rather than later.â
Ellis took a poker from the black metal hanging tool stand and flipped the top log in the smoldering pile. Orange and red flames flared for a few seconds. He balanced another log on top and the fire burst to life.
âWhatâs an example of a trip wire?â Zoë asked.
âA webcam configured to recognize heat or motion.â
âOut in the middle of nowhere?â she asked, incredulous. âCan that really be done?â
âSure.â
âWeâre going to install security cameras along stretches of deserted shoreline?â I asked.
âWe might. Some communities already have. You sound surprised. How come?â
âBecause there arenât any cameras installed in the corridor outside Ianâs room. Weâre not even able to protect people where they sleep, let alone on tens of thousands of miles of unguarded coastline. Itâs hopeless.â
âItâs not hopeless,â Ty said. âItâs just deciding to do it. Like going to the moon. Once we put our collective mind on the problem, we solved it.â
âI guess,â I said, my eyes on the fire.
âWeâre doing everything we can to find Ian, Josie,â Ellis said quietly. âWeâve sent out BOLOs for him and his car. Weâve got alerts on his credit cards. I have calls in to his daughter.â
I watched flames touch the smoldering logs. I knew Ellis was doing his best. I also knew it wasnât good enough.
Later, when Ty and I were on my porch, Ty paused with the key in the lock.
âI still think thereâs a good chance Ian will resurface with one heck of a good story.â
I rubbed his cheek, knowing he was only saying it to bolster me, and I was grateful. It allowed me to hold on to a glimmer of hope, and sometimes a glimmer is enough to be able to navigate your way out of despair.
Upstairs, I switched off my lamp and closed my eyes and surrendered myself to the dark.
Â
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Just before ten next morning, Wednesday, I sat in my office, staring out the window, trying to talk myself out of my funk. There was no news of Ian, and Becca hadnât called back.
âGet to work,â I said aloud.
I didnât move. The snow had stopped overnight, and the temperature had warmed to heat wave status, forty-five degrees. Mica embedded in the granite boulders that dotted the woods twinkled like faraway stars. A small bird, black with white tips on some of its feathers, caught my eye as it fluttered through the thick green branches of a pine tree. I wondered why, speculating that it might have built a nest on a protected branch.
A buzz from the intercom startled me. It was Cara calling to tell me Lia was on line one. I grabbed the phone.
âLia!â I said. âTell me you have news.â
âNo.
C. J. Cherryh
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