“She wasn’t ready in time, and I didn’t want to lose the reservation. We had champagne chilling. I wasn’t going to let her inconsideration spoil our celebration. She said for us to go ahead, that she would drive herself when she was ready. Of course I refused to allow that since—”
“Since she has only her learner’s permit,” he said, impatiently finishing for her. “Are you telling me that she didn’t make it to the restaurant?”
“No, I’m telling you that she called an Uber, using a credit card that you gave her without my knowledge.”
“I don’t need your permission to give my daughter a credit card, Roslyn. She doesn’t abuse it. It’s to use in case of an emergency.”
“Like running to you.”
He could feel anxiety like a fist taking hold of his lungs and beginning to squeeze. “Did she get to the restaurant or not?”
“Oh, she did. Acting like the queen of Sheba. She was horrid. Absolutely horrid. She ruined the whole evening for us. She was snotty and sullen. I wanted to slap her. When they brought out the cake—”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“—she threw her napkin in an expensive plate of food she hadn’t touched, and stalked out.”
“You haven’t seen her since?”
“I was going to let her have it as soon as we got home, but she isn’t here. I know she ran to you, John, because—”
“Did she take your car?”
“No. That’s the first thing I checked. It’s still in the garage. But she’s resourceful, and now she has that secret credit card—”
“She’s not with me. I haven’t heard from her since she texted me that she’d gotten home from school. I’m hanging up.”
Beth had concluded her call and was looking at him with concern.
“Molly is unaccounted for.” His throat was so constricted he could barely speak the words. With butter fingers, he called Molly’s cell. After the tenth ring, it went to voice mail. “Molly, your mother called me looking for you. If you’re on your way to me, fine. Good. Don’t worry abouther rants. I’ll handle her. Just call me to let me know you’re all right. If you can’t get here, I’ll come pick you up.
“Look, I know you’re upset. But remember our pact. We’ll work things out with your mother, I swear. Even if we have to go to court. Call me back. I love you.”
He clicked off, threw the phone down onto the table, and raked his fingers through his hair. Beth said, “You’re afraid she ran away again?”
“No. I’m afraid she didn’t.”
“This is Barker. Who’s this?”
“Your worst nightmare.”
“Well, hello, Bowie.”
“Have you got my daughter?”
Tom looked across at the ogre, who was wedged into his chair on the other side of Tom’s desk and, as usual, was opening a fresh stick of chewing gum. Tom put his phone on speaker. “What makes you think so?”
Bowie, speaking softly, said, “If you have laid a finger on her, I’m going to choke you, slowly, with your own intestines.”
Tom waited a moment to reply, then drawled, “Frank here warned me of that, didn’t you, Frank? He warned that you would gut me on principle.”
“Where is she?”
“Given her history of running away, I thought you’d have kept better track of her.”
“Put her on the phone. On FaceTime.”
Barkertsked. “You know I won’t let you see her, John. Or even talk to her. Not unless I get something in return.”