Ornaments of Death by Jane K. Cleland

the hotel’s. Privacy. I got it, but that didn’t 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, “What do we do now?”
    Ellis double-clicked his remote, and the SUV’s lights flicked on and off.
    â€œWe find him.”
    *   *   *
    Ty’s flight landed at Boston’s Logan Airport on time at six, and he got home just before eight thirty. After a late dinner, Ty and I went over to Zoë’s for dessert, Ellis’s 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.
    â€œThere’s more than ninety-five thousand miles of shoreline in the country,” Ty said, “the overwhelming majority of it unmonitored. We want to set up trip wires, figuratively speaking. That’s why my boss formed this committee—to identify and implement tactics to spot breaches sooner, rather than later.”
    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.
    â€œWhat’s an example of a trip wire?” Zoë asked.
    â€œA webcam configured to recognize heat or motion.”
    â€œOut in the middle of nowhere?” she asked, incredulous. “Can that really be done?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWe’re going to install security cameras along stretches of deserted shoreline?” I asked.
    â€œWe might. Some communities already have. You sound surprised. How come?”
    â€œBecause there aren’t any cameras installed in the corridor outside Ian’s room. We’re not even able to protect people where they sleep, let alone on tens of thousands of miles of unguarded coastline. It’s hopeless.”
    â€œIt’s not hopeless,” Ty said. “It’s just deciding to do it. Like going to the moon. Once we put our collective mind on the problem, we solved it.”
    â€œI guess,” I said, my eyes on the fire.
    â€œWe’re doing everything we can to find Ian, Josie,” Ellis said quietly. “We’ve sent out BOLOs for him and his car. We’ve got alerts on his credit cards. I have calls in to his daughter.”
    I watched flames touch the smoldering logs. I knew Ellis was doing his best. I also knew it wasn’t good enough.
    Later, when Ty and I were on my porch, Ty paused with the key in the lock.
    â€œI still think there’s a good chance Ian will resurface with one heck of a good story.”
    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.

 
    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 hadn’t called back.
    â€œGet to work,” I said aloud.
    I didn’t 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.
    â€œLia!” I said. “Tell me you have news.”
    â€œNo.