David Morrell - Long lost

That didn't make sense, either. "The bastard must have taken it. Why? And where are my wife and son?" The increasingly troubled look on the trooper's face made me realize that he hadn't told me everything.

"The master bedroom and your son's room had been ransacked," the trooper said.

"What?"

"Drawers had been pulled out, clothes scattered. It looked to the Denver officers as if somebody tore through those bedrooms in an awful hurry."

I screamed.

No matter how desperately I wanted to get home, the doctor refused to release me until the next morning. The state trooper drove me back to Denver. My right wrist ached from the IV the doctor had given me. After two days without food, I should have been ravenous, but the shock of my emotions killed my appetite. I had to force myself to chew slowly on a banana and take small sips from a bottle of orange juice.

When we turned onto my street, I saw the maple trees in front of our Victorian, a van and a station wagon in our driveway, and a Denver police car at the curb. Farther along were other cars and two trucks from local TV stations.

Getting out of the cruiser, I recognized the female television reporter who stalked toward me, armed with a microphone, a cameraman behind her. Her male equivalent from a rival station wasn't far behind. Reporters scrambled from the other cars.

"How the hell did they find out?" I asked.

"Get in the house."

Holding out his arms, the state trooper formed a barrier while I limped across the lawn. The pants and shirt the doctor had lent me (my own had been rags) hung loosely on me, increasing my sense of frailty. I managed to get inside and shut the door, blocking the noise of the reporters shouting my name. But other voices replaced them. A police officer, several men in sport coats, and others holding lab equipment stood in the living room, talking to one another.

One of the men, heavyset, with a mustache, noticed me in the foyer and came over. "Mr. Denning?" The motion of nodding made me dizzy.

"I'm Lieutenant Webber. This is Sergeant Pendleton." He indicated a younger, thinner man, clean-shaven.

"We checked the attic, the basement, and the trees in back. There's no sign of your wife and son," Pendleton said.

For a moment, I didn't understand what the detective was talking about. The officers who'd entered the house the previous night had said that Kate and Jason weren't home. If Petey had taken them in Kate's Volvo, why would the police now have checked the attic and the… I felt sick when I realized that they'd been searching for well-hidden corpses.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Denning. You'd better sit down." Webber guided me into the living room, where the other men shifted to the side. "I'll get you some water."

Despite the fluids the doctor had given me, I still felt parched. When the detective came back with a full glass, I had a moment's disorientation, as if this were his home and I were a guest. I held the glass awkwardly between my bandaged hands and took a swallow. My stomach protested. I managed to ask, "You've no idea where my wife and son are?"

"Not yet," Webber said. "The state police relayed what you told them, but we need to ask you some questions." He looked at the scrapes on my face. "Do you feel strong enough to answer them?"

"The sooner I do, the sooner I'll get my family back." A look passed between them, which I understood only later- they weren't as confident as I was that I'd get my family back.

"It would help if…" Pendleton glanced at where my fingertips projected from the bandages on my hands. "We need to take your prints."

"Take my… But why would…"

"So we can separate yours from the man who kidnapped your family. Which bedroom was his?"

"Go to the left at the top of the stairs." I felt out of breath. "The room's at the end of the hall. On the right."

"That's the one with the baseball glove on the bed," Webber told a technician.

"Baseball glove?" I tensed. "On his bed?"

Pendleton frowned. "Yes. Is that important?"

"The glove was Petey's a long time ago."

"I don't understand."

"He's saying he doesn't want the damned.thing anymore. Because he's got something better."

"Slow down, Mr. Denning. We're not following you."

As a technician pressed my fingertips on an inky pad and then onto a sheet of paper that had a place for each digit, I tried as hard as I could to make them understand.

"Long-lost brother?"

"God help me, yes."

"But how did you know he really was your brother?"

"He told me things only my brother could have known."

The detectives gave each other that look again.

"What's wrong?"

"Just a thought," Webber said. "Maybe you heard what you wanted to hear. Some con men are good at making general statements sound specific. The people they're trying to fool fill in the gaps."

"No. I tested him. He got every detail right."

"They can be awfully clever."

"But it doesn't make sense. A con man's motive would have been robbery. All he'd have needed to do was wait until Kate and I went to work and Jason was at school. He'd have had all day to loot the house. He wouldn't have needed to try to kill me. That was personal. That was Petey getting even!"

Pendleton made a calming gesture. "We're just trying to get a sense of the man we're after."

"For God's sake, a con man wouldn't be stupid enough to add murder and kidnapping to a burglary charge."

"Unless he enjoyed violence."

The direct look Webber gave me was dizzying in its effect. All along, I'd worked to assure myself that Jason and Kate were alive. Now, for the first time, I admitted to myself that Jason might be dead in the mountains, that Kate's body might be lying in a ditch somewhere.

I almost threw up.

Pendleton seemed to sense my panicked thoughts. His tone suggested an attempt to distract me. "You don't happen to have a photograph of him, do you?"

"No."

"With the excitement of the homecoming, you didn't take any pictures?"

"No." I wanted to scream. If only I hadn't let a stranger into my house…

But he isn't a stranger, I tried to tell myself.

What the hell's the matter with you? I thought. After twenty-five years, Petey is a stranger!

"Mr. Denning?"

I looked over at Pendleton, realizing that he'd said my name several times in an effort to get my attention.

"If you're able, we'd like you to walk through the house and tell us if anything's missing."

"Whatever I have to do."

They handed me latex gloves and put on their own. Unsteady, I began in the downstairs rooms, and immediately I noticed that the silverware Kate had inherited from her grandmother was no longer on the sideboard in the dining room. A silver tea set was missing also. In the TV room, the DVD and videotape players were gone, along with an expensive audio/video receiver.

"He'd probably have taken the TV, too," I said bitterly, "except that it's forty-six inches and wouldn't fit in the Volvo. I don't understand why he didn't keep the Expedition. It's got more room. He could have stolen more things."

Webber looked uncomfortable. "We'll talk about it later. Finish checking the house."

The microwave and the Cuisinart food processor were missing from the kitchen. Numerous compact power tools were gone from the garage. My laptop computer wasn't in my office.

"What about firearms?" Pendleton asked. "Do you have any in the house? Did he take them?"

"No guns."

"Not even a hunting rifle?"

"No. I'm not a hunter."

I made my way upstairs and froze at the entrance to Jason's room, seeing his drawers pulled out, his clothes scattered on the floor. It took all my willpower to step inside and look around.