The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [91]
Jason felt his chest tighten. Ree had gone through an attachment phase where she’d cried and carried on every time Sandy left. So Sandy had started a little game she’d read in some parenting book, always notifying Ree when she was leaving, and always hugging Ree first thing when she got home. “See, look at me, Ree. I’m home. I always come home. I’d never leave you. Never.”
“Mommy’s going to put me to bed,” Ree said now, chin still sticking out obstinately. “It’s her job. You go to work, she puts me to bed. Go to work, Daddy. Go on. Leave!”
“Ree …”
“I don’t want you here anymore. You have to leave. If you leave, Mommy will come home. Go to work. You have to.”
“Ree …”
“Get out, get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re a big meanie.”
“Clarissa Jane Jones.”
“Stop it, stop it!” She clapped her hands over her ears. “Stop yelling, I don’t want to hear you yelling.”
“I’m not yelling.” But his voice was rising.
His daughter continued as if she’d never heard him. “Angry feet, angry feet. I hear your mean feet on the stairs. Get out, get out, get out. I want Mommy! It’s not fair, it’s not fair. I want my mommy!”
Then his daughter twisted away from him and ran sobbing up the stairs.
Jason let her go. He listened as Ree stormed down the hall. He caught the distant boom as she slammed her door shut. Then he was left alone at the kitchen counter, with a half-eaten waffle and a heart full of regrets.
Day two of his wife’s disappearance and his daughter was falling to pieces.
He thought, in a spurt of ironic bitterness, that Sandy had better be dead or he’d kill her for this.
The police returned at exactly 8:45 P.M. Jason was standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the family computer, which was no longer the family computer, when they pounded up the front steps.
He opened the door. Sergeant Warren led the charge.
She thrust the search warrant in front of his face, rattling off in rapid legalese where they were allowed to go and what they were allowed to seize. As he’d suspected, they would be taking the computer, as well as miscellaneous electronic devices, including but not limited to gaming devices, iPods, BlackBerries, and Palm Pilots.
“What are gaming devices?” he asked her, as uniformed officers and forensic techs poured into his house. Across the street, klieg lights were firing up as reporters caught the action and geared up for a fresh round of photo ops.
“Xbox, Gameboys, PlayStation 2, Wii system, etc., etc.”
“Ree has a Leapster,” he offered. “If you want my advice, the Cars game is better than the Disney Princess cartridge, but, of course, the evidence techs can judge for themselves.”
D.D. regarded him coolly. “The warrant gives us permission to seize all electronics we deem necessary, sir. So yes, we will judge for ourselves.”
The “sir” rankled him, but he let it go. “Ree’s asleep,” he found himself saying. “She’s had a very long day. If you could ask the officers to please keep things quiet …”
He strove for politeness, though maybe his voice hitched a little at the end. He’d had a long day, too, which was about to become a long night.
“We’re professionals,” the sergeant informed him stiffly. “We’re not gonna ransack your house. We’re going to take it apart piece by piece very politely.”
D.D. motioned a uniformed officer over. Officer Anzaldi, it appeared, had drawn the short straw and would be serving as Jason’s babysitter for the evening. The officer led him to the family room, where Jason took a seat on the love seat, much as he had done the day before. Except no Ree this time. No tiny warm body snuggled against him, needing him, grounding him, keeping him from screaming from the frustration of it all.
So Jason closed his eyes, put his hands behind his head, and went to sleep.
When he opened his eyes, forty-five minutes had passed and Sergeant D.D. Warren was staring down at him in quiet fury.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Resting.”
“Resting? Just like that? Your wife is missing, so you’re taking a nap?”
“It’s not like I’m going to find her while I’m being confined