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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE KELLERS

Saturday morning begins with a shadow hovering over them on the uncomfortable mattress in Bob’s sister’s childhood bedroom—Bob and Keller’s bedroom for the unforeseeable future. Keller opens an eye and sees the twins looking down at Bob.

“Daddy,” Heather loud-whispers. “You said we’re going to the beach today. You said to wake you up early.”

Michael chimes in. “You said…”

As every parent knows, to a child, “you said” is an ironclad contract, an unbreakable vow, a blood oath that shan’t be broken.

Bob grunts something but his eyes are still closed.

Imitating a child’s voice, Keller says, “You saaid,” in his ear.

An hour later, everyone is beached up—well, the best New Yorkers could do on short notice—cutoffs, old T-shirts. They’ll have to buy sunscreen at the CVS, buckets and shovels at one of those beach shops.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Keller says to Bob. “We just got here. And don’t we need to keep an eye on your dad?”

On cue, Pops shuffles into the kitchen wearing a robe.

“Never say no to the beach, right, Pops?” Bob says.

“That’s right. Ocean and sand keep you young.”

Pops isn’t looking so young this morning.

Keller eyes her husband. “You sure it won’t be too cold?”

Pops scoffs. “It’s gonna be seventy-five degrees out today. I thought you were from New York?”

She grew up in New Jersey, but she gets the point. “I mean the water—won’t it still be cold?”

Pops bobbles his head like, maybe yes, maybe no .

“Make you something for breakfast?” Keller asks.

Pops says, “I can fend for myself. Nurse Ratched comes at nine on Saturdays, so you kids go have fun.” The home care service has a nurse visit every few days. “I told Bobby I don’t need them coming so often. I’m not an invalid.”

Bob and his father have obviously discussed the beach already.

Pops looks at the twins. “You have fun at your air guitar party?”

They both nod, wide-eyed.

Keller says, “Sorry if we were too loud.”

“No such thing,” Pops says.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Bob says, “I brought you something.” He disappears out of the kitchen and returns quickly. He hands Pops an old record in its sleeve.

“I found it in that vinyl shop I took you to in SoHo. It’s a first press, super rare.”

Pops examines the Rolling Stones album and nods approvingly.

“Thank you, Bobby,” he says, and he looks a little choked up. “You remember that Stones concert I took you to?”

“It was my first concert, Dad. That’s like asking if I remember when I lost my virginity.”

Pops grins. “I remember worrying that might never happen.”

“Boys…” Keller says, trying to stifle any questions about what “virginity” means from the twins.

Pops turns to the kids. “Let’s go to the garage and see if we still have any of your dad’s old beach stuff.”

Keller walks over to Bob and gives him a hug. It’s interrupted by the chime of her phone. She checks the screen. The caller ID says Richard Peters. He’s the assistant special agent in charge of the San Jose office. Her new boss. Strange that he’s calling from a personal phone. On a Saturday. Maybe she needs to fill out more paperwork before starting on Monday.

“Sarah Keller,” she says in her FBI agent voice.

“Agent Keller, it’s Richard Peters,” he says, outmatching her formality.

“Hi… Good morning…”

There’s a long pause.

“I hate to start you off this way. But I need you for something today.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” She suppresses a sigh.

“We got a call from the chief of campus police at SCU,” Peters continues.

Keller listens.

“Seems a group of college kids have gone missing and our campus liaison who usually handles such things is on parental leave. Had the baby yesterday.”

Keller’s been there. “Missing? For how long?”

“Not long, and it will likely be a waste of our time. But there are some extenuating circumstances so we need someone on the ground ASAP.”

“Of course,” Keller says, wondering what “extenuating circumstances” would cause the FBI to get involved in a missing persons case.

Peters fills her in and gives her the name of her point of contact at the university.

She breaks the news to her family. Explains that she’s the new person at the office, which means the less desirable assignments, the weekend work.

Bob has already quelled the whines from the kids with talk of ice cream and pizza and burying them in the sand.

When Keller tells him the assignment, he gives her a rueful grin: “Paul Blart, Campus Cop.”