Nothing. My heart started to thump. I knocked again, using more force.
I raised my hand to try the knob, but didn’t. I couldn’t just barge in on her, in whatever delicate state she might be in.
“Caitlin? If you don’t say anything, I’m going to open the door and check on you.”
Still nothing.
I tried the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it gave right away. I pushed in. The lights were on, gleaming off the polished surface of the vanity and mirror. The window was open too, wide open, the curtains swelling in the cold breeze. Caitlin wasn’t there. She was gone, out the window and into the night.
Abby stood at the bottom of the stairs.
“Tom?”
“Call the police. She went out the window.” I didn’t break stride. I went out the back door and into the yard, calling her name. “Caitlin! Caitlin!”
Nothing. No sign of her. The cars still sat at the end of the driveway. I looked in the windows, cupping my hands against the glass. Empty. An unbidden thought popped into my head—I didn’t know if Caitlin knew how to drive.
I turned away from the car. “Caitlin!”
I looked back at the house. She’d gone out the window and onto the porch overhang. From there, it was about a ten-foot drop to the ground. Hardly a challenge for someone young and in any kind of decent shape.
Abby came to the back door. “Tom? The police are coming.” “We should call Ryan.”
“They said they’d tell him.”
“I’m going to take the car and look,” I said, already moving. “She can’t have gone far. Jesus Christ, Abby. I should have seen this coming. The way she acted in the car . . .”
“I think you should stay.”
“I’m going,” I said. “Around the neighborhood.”
“Tom, I want you to stay. Please. I don’t want to be here alone.”
I held my keys in my hand and moved toward the car. I looked back at Abby under the glow of the back porch light. Her face was full of pleading and fear.
Last time, I sat in the house, waiting. A fool. Not again, I thought. Not again. I couldn’t let Caitlin disappear this time without doing something. Immediately.
“I have the cell,” I said. “Call me if anything changes.”
“Tom.”
I didn’t look back. I got into the car and sped off.
Chapter Twenty-five
He took her.
As I made my way through the streets around our house, up one and down the other, peering into front yards and up driveways, trying my best to see through the darkness, one thought circled through my brain: He took her. Buster took her.
Televisions glowed blue behind drawn curtains, and regular people washed dishes or put out trash cans. They lived their lives, ignorant of and unaffected by my drama.
I didn’t see Caitlin anywhere.
The cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Abby. I answered.
“Tom, the police are here.”
My heart raced even more. “Did they find her?”
“No. They want to talk to you.”
“Tell them I’m looking.”
“They don’t want you to look,” Abby said. “They want you back here.”
“You want me back there,” I said. “The cops don’t care.”
“Tom—”
“Tell them to call Buster.”
“Do you really think—?”
“Tell them.”
Once I drove through our neighborhood, I headed toward campus and looked along the streets there. Students filled the sidewalks, shuffling to evening classes. I quickly felt like a man adrift, without hope. Engaging in a fool’s errand. Even in a town this size, what were the odds of finding one person, especially one person who apparently didn’t want to be found?
The phone buzzed again.
“Shit.” I checked the display, expecting to see Abby’s name. I was relieved to see it was Ryan. “Hello? Did you find her?”
“Tom, you should come back here. We have men looking.”
“Where? I’m over by campus, and I don’t see them.”
“Your wife needs you at home. If Caitlin comes back, you need to be here.”
“If, if, if, Ryan. I’m not going to be passive this time,” I said. “I should have seen this. I should have stopped it. I’m not going to sit at home while my daughter is lost, God knows where.”
“Listen to me, Tom—”