She came downstairs carrying a cardboard box.
“Mrs. Pearl.”
“Mr. Keaton.”
“Where’s Corinne?”
Something in her expression made me wish I left them in the car.
“She left.”
“Left where?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Twelve days ago.”
Briefly, I thought I had misunderstood.
“Twelve days?”
“Yes.”
“But I left nine days ago.”
“I know.”
A colder thought entered my mind.
“Did she take Owen?”
Mrs. Pearl’s eyes sharpened.
“Of course she took Owen.”
The answer struck me harder than it should have.
I approached the stairs.
“Did she go to her mother’s?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she leave a number?”
“No.”
“Did she tell you anything?”
Mrs. Pearl held out an envelope.
“She told me you were not to move anything in your office until you read this.”
My name was written across the front in Corinne’s neat handwriting.
For Grant, when he returns.
