1
Now
Bryden encourages Clara to eat her breakfast of Cheerios and a banana. She needs to get Clara ready for day care. She's working from home today, Tuesday, at their condo in Buckingham Lake, because she has a lot to do, and she gets more done at home, away from distractions, than she does at the office. She's an accountant with a busy midsize firm on North Pearl, downtown, and they don't have a problem with it.
Her husband, Sam, enters the kitchen dressed for work, tightening his patterned silk tie. He kisses her on the cheek and heads for the coffee maker. He has his back to her, pouring out his coffee, when he asks, "What's on for today? You working from home?"
"Yes, I told you last night, remember?"
"Right." He turns around to face her and smiles. "And you're in your work-from-home outfit."
She laughs and looks down at her sweatshirt and yoga pants. "It's nice not to have to dress up for work once in a while."
He makes himself some toast and eats it sitting beside their daughter at the kitchen table, entertaining her with silly faces, making her laugh, while Bryden gathers everything together to get Clara ready.
Sam leaves the condo first. He's a portfolio manager with Kleinberg Wealth, and he's got an early meeting. Bryden picks up Clara and they have a group hug in the front foyer, and Sam and Bryden kiss each other goodbye before he puts on his coat. Bryden and Clara wave from the doorway as they watch him walk down the corridor and enter the elevator to go down to the underground parking garage, where he'll get in his car and make the fourteen-minute drive to his office downtown.
A few minutes later, Bryden gets in the elevator with Clara, descends to the parking garage, and buckles her daughter into her car seat in the Volvo to drive her to day care.
That afternoon, Sam Frost is in a meeting with a high-net-worth client. They’re sitting at a long table in front of glass windows with a panoramic view of the city, when Sam gets a signal through the glass wall from Connie that he’s wanted on the phone. He shakes his head at her. He turns his cell phone off during meetings for a reason. But she’s insistent, making faces and gesticulating at him. He excuses himself and leaves the room.
"What is so important that you have to interrupt my meeting?" he asks her.
"It's your daughter's day care."
"Is she all right?" he asks quickly.
"Yes, she's fine, but your wife hasn't picked her up."
He glances at his watch. It's 5:30. Bryden always picks Clara up at 5:00. "Seriously?"
"You'd better talk to them."
He follows her to reception and picks up the phone. "Sam Frost," he says.
"Mr. Frost, sorry to bother you, but Bryden hasn't been in to pick up Clara, and she's not answering her phone or texts."
"She's probably in her car on the way," he says. "Can you wait a little longer?"
"We're here for late pickup till six thirty. But someone must come get her by then."
He makes a mental calculation. "Look, if Bryden doesn't arrive there by six, I'll come get Clara. It's only a few minutes from here. But I'm sure she will get there any minute. I'll try to contact her."
"Thank you, Mr. Frost."
He hangs up the phone. Connie is looking at him.
"Everything all right?" she asks.
"I'm sure everything's fine," he says. "Something must have held Bryden up." He texts her. You okay? He watches his phone for a moment, but there's no reply. He calls her, but it goes directly to voicemail. "She must be in the car, running late," he says to Connie. He returns to his meeting, which soon comes to an end. When he hasn't been able to reach Bryden by six o'clock, he phones the day care. The director, Gwen, answers.
"We were just about to call you, Mr. Frost. Bryden still isn't here. I hope she's okay."
"I don't know what's happened to her," he says, allowing worry to creep into his voice. "But I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon."
He turns to Connie, who is hovering. "This is really odd. I've called and texted her, and the day care has too, and she's not answering. She should have got there by now." For good measure, he calls Bryden again while Connie stands by, but again, there's no answer. He leaves another message. "I'm really worried now, Bryden. Can you please get in touch? I'm going to pick up Clara."
Sam quickly leaves the office and drives as fast as he dares to the day care, which is located about midway between downtown and their condo in the northwest part of the small city. The first thing he does when he arrives is gather Clara up in his arms and smother her tearstained face with kisses until she giggles. Then he turns to Gwen, who has been waiting, and says, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's happened to Bryden. I'm sure there will be some simple explanation." Nothing like this has ever happened before. He puts his daughter down and takes her by the hand. "Let's go find Mommy, shall we?" They walk out of the day care as if nothing is wrong at all. It's important to act as normally as possible in front of his daughter, he thinks, even if things aren't normal at all.
They arrive home via the underground parking garage, and the first thing Sam sees is his wife's car sitting in its usual spot. He parks beside it. "Look. Mommy's car is here," he says to Clara. His voice sounds fake, with a forced optimism. He gets out of the car and glances quickly through the windows of his wife's Volvo, but the car is empty. Then he helps Clara out of her car seat.
They take the elevator from parking level 1B directly up to the eighth floor. The doors slide open, and Sam walks down the quiet corridor holding his daughter's hand. Their feet make no sound on the carpet; he can feel the thudding of his own heart.
When Sam opens the door, he spots Bryden's handbag on the small side table in the foyer beneath the mirror. It looks so familiar, so normal. He calls out her name as he closes the door behind them.
"Bryden?" There's no answer.
The foyer and short hall give way to the living room, a large, open space, with the dining room to the left. He sees his wife's computer sitting open on the dining-room table, where she likes to work. Her cell phone is resting beside it. He makes a hurried check of all the rooms, while three-year-old Clara follows him like an eager puppy. He pops his head in the kitchen, then checks the master bedroom and en suite bath, then Clara's room, the den, the other bathroom. Everything is undisturbed, just as it should be. The apartment is tidy, as it usually is. But there is no sign of Bryden. He rushes back to the dining room. His wife's computer is on but has gone into sleep mode. It looks like she's just stepped out for a moment.
Then he goes through the apartment again, more carefully. There's no note left on the fridge, or anywhere else. Clara is beginning to realize that something is really wrong.
"Where's Mommy?" she asks, her lower lip trembling, on the verge of tears.
"I don't know, sweetie, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. She probably had an appointment and I forgot I was supposed to pick you up. Silly Daddy. We will find her, I promise."
He scoops the little girl up in his arms and leaves the apartment and knocks on the door of unit 808, two doors down. He realizes he's practically hammering on the door and tells himself to calm down.
Angela Romano opens the door with a look of surprise. She takes in the sight of him with Clara in his arms, the troubled look on his face. "Sam, what is it?"
"Do you know where Bryden is?" he asks quickly.
"No. I got home about an hour ago. I haven't seen her."
"She didn't show up at the day care to get Clara. She's not home. I don't know where she is."
Clara begins to cry.
Now Angela looks concerned. She reaches out automatically for Clara and takes her in her arms.
"Clara, do you want to say hi to Savanah? She's in the living room." She puts her down and gives her a little pat on the bum to send her off. The two little girls are best friends; Clara and Bryden spend a lot of time with Angela and her daughter.
Once Clara is out of earshot, he doesn't have to try to pretend that everything is okay.
"Her purse and phone are in the apartment, and her car is here," Sam says. Angela glances at her watch. Sam knows it's almost 6:30. "She was supposed to pick Clara up at five. Where the fuck can she be?"
"I don't know," Angela says, her voice low but tense. "Leave Clara with me for a bit. Text me when you find her, okay? Let me know what's happening." He can tell she's trying to be calm for him, but she's clearly worried.
"Okay. Thanks." He hurries back to his own apartment and calls Bryden's sister, Lizzie, who lives not far away, in the center of town.
"What?" Lizzie says, when he tells her that he doesn't know where Bryden is.
"Have you heard from her today?" Sam asks.
"No, I haven't. When was the last time you spoke to her?"
"This morning when I left for work. Her phone is here, and her purse, but she's not here." Anxiety has taken hold of him; he lets it infect his voice. He paces the apartment. In the dining room, while he's talking to Lizzie, he picks up Bryden's cell phone and scrolls quickly through it. He knows the password for her phone, and she knows his. He sees the messages and texts from the day care and from him-she hasn't responded to any of them-but nothing to indicate where she might have gone. "What should I do?"
"Have you called Paige?" Lizzie asks. "Try her and call me right back." She disconnects.
Sam calls Paige Mason, Bryden's best friend; it goes to voicemail. He sends her a text: Is Bryden with you? But he doesn't get an immediate answer. He calls Lizzie back.
"There's no way she wouldn't pick up Clara, unless something was really wrong," Lizzie says uneasily.
Sam swallows. "I know."
"I think you should call the police."
"I'll call them now."
"Okay. I'm coming over."
"Yes, please come," Sam says.
2
Detective Jayne Salter, of the Albany Police Department, is at dinner at home in her apartment near Washington Park when the call comes in. She picks her cell phone up off the table, glances apologetically over the flickering candle at the man across from her, swallows her mouthful down, and says, "Jayne Salter."
"Sorry to bother you at home, Detective, but we've just had a report of a woman going missing. Failed to pick her child up from day care. The husband called it in. Uniforms are on the way to the home now."
She glances at her watch. It's 6:51 p.m. "I'll be right there. What's the address?"
"It's a condominium building-Constitution Drive, unit 804. In Buckingham Lake."
She writes it down and disconnects the call. She looks at her boyfriend, Michael Fraser, who has stopped eating and put down his knife and fork. He's observing her with dismay. It's March 7, the one-year anniversary of their first date, and he wanted it to be special. He'd made her favorite meal, linguine with seafood, and bought champagne. She's only had half a glass, she'll be fine to drive, she thinks to herself. And then she realizes that she is doing it again-she's putting her job first. Her first thought should have been for Michael, who'd made all this effort.
And then she thinks, but should it? Should she be more worried about his disappointment than about finding this missing woman? She realizes that she feels defensive already, because she can tell that he's not happy about it. Well, he knew when he met her what she did for a living.
She rises from the table. He stands too. "I'm really sorry about this, Michael, you know I am. But a woman is missing, a woman with a child."
He nods, resigned. He kisses her goodbye.
She gathers her coat and bag. "You eat, I'll warm mine up when I get back." She adds, "I'll try not to be late."
"Sure," he says, with a rueful smile. "I'll eat in front of the TV. I'm sure there's something good on Netflix."
Jayne arrives in less than ten minutes. A police cruiser is parked on the street outside the luxury condo building, and she pulls up behind it. The condo is a large, sandstone-colored building of about ten to twelve stories. It looks like most units have balconies. There’s a curved drive leading into it from the street. The front entrance is rather grand, with an arch with 100 Constitution Drive emblazoned on it. It’s an attractive building, in a good neighborhood. Jayne enters through the glass doors, quickly taking in the concierge desk to the left; the bored-looking young man sitting behind it doesn’t even look up. The floors are glossy and the interior looks well maintained. The bank of elevators is on the right. She makes her way to the desk and holds up her badge. “Is the building manager here?”
He looks at her badge with alarm and says, "No."
"Get him here urgently, will you?"
"Yes, ma'am." He's reaching for the telephone as she turns from the desk, walks across the lobby, and takes the elevator to the eighth floor. She glances up for cameras but doesn't see any. The elevator pings as she arrives. The doors slide open and she walks down the corridor, the soft carpet deadening her footsteps. She greets a female uniformed officer standing outside unit 804, then opens the door and enters the foyer. At first glance, she can see that the apartment is spacious and decorated in light, neutral tones. She can see beyond the foyer and short hall into the living room, which is carpeted in a tasteful beige. A man and a woman are sitting side by side on a large, plush sofa and look up quickly as she enters. She's met by Officer Hernandez, who steps away from the couple and speaks to her quietly.
"We just got here. The husband's pretty upset," he tells her. "The missing woman's sister is here too."
Copyright © 2025 by Shari Lapena. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
