Page 14 of She Didn’t See It Coming

Donna is waiting in her daughter’s condo, telling herself that Bryden walked out that door yesterday of her own free will and that she’ll come back at any moment, with some completely reasonable explanation, something simple that none of them have thought of.

Like she went for a walk and fainted—maybe she’s pregnant, she fainted a bit with Clara—and hit her head and someone helped her but didn’t take her to the hospital because she didn’t have any ID, and just took her home to take care of her and as soon as she’s over her concussion she’ll remember her phone number and call them and they’ll all just laugh in relief.

But then the facts intrude—she would have taken her keys and her phone with her if she’d gone out for a walk, and her keys and phone are here. There’s always some fact that gets in the way of these fantasies. But they are the only thing sustaining her right now.

She spoke to Bryden a little over a week ago.

Now that she thinks of it, she didn’t speak to her this past Sunday, like she usually does.

Should she have mentioned that to the detectives?

But Bryden doesn’t call every Sunday. She could ask Sam what they were doing Sunday, around dinnertime. Maybe they were busy.

But the last time she spoke to her daughter, the week before, everything was fine.

She seemed her usual self. A little worried about Clara—she’s such a sensitive child—but nothing unusual about that.

Donna is worried about Clara now. What will happen to her if she doesn’t get her mother back?

But she can’t let herself think that way.

She can’t bear the thought of losing her daughter, and the idea of her granddaughter losing her mother at the tender age of three is even worse.

Sam wouldn’t be able to cope on his own, she thinks.

He’s a good father, Bryden always said so, and it looks that way to her, but Bryden is the more hands-on parent by far.

But it’s so often like that, she thinks.

The mother doing most of the childcare. That’s the way it was for her, although she knows dads are expected to do more these days.

She thinks Sam should be more careful about what Clara is exposed to right now.

She’s grateful that Angela is able to take her when the police are here, so that Clara doesn’t hear things she shouldn’t.

But maybe she’s being unfair. Sam’s a mess, it’s obvious.

What could be worse for a man than to lose his wife and the mother of his child? And he loves her, they all know that.

She glances at her watch. She still wears a watch although most people these days just seem to look at their phone all the time. It’s almost five o’clock, time to start thinking about supper for everyone. Paige has already left. Lizzie and she will figure it out together. Thank goodness for Lizzie.

She leaves Jim in the living room staring at the floor and enters the kitchen to find Sam and Lizzie, heads together in quiet conversation. She seems to have interrupted something because they look up guiltily.

“What is it?” she asks uneasily.

“Nothing,” Lizzie says. “I was just telling Sam about what the police said to me.”

But Donna knows she’s already told them all about her interview. What is she telling Sam that she didn’t tell them? “Is there something you didn’t tell us before?” Donna asks.

“No, Mom.”

But she stares at her daughter the way she always did when the kids were growing up and keeping something from her. Her stare says Out with it.

Lizzie sighs and says, “She asked me for an alibi.”

“An alibi?” Donna repeats. Then, her voice shrill, “For what? Do they think she’s dead?”

“Mom, calm down,” Lizzie says firmly. “It’s normal procedure.

She probably didn’t ask you and Dad because she knows you were in Florida.

” She adds, “As a matter of fact, I don’t have an alibi.

It was my day off. I was at home by myself, cleaning the house, taking it easy.

I don’t get a lot of time to just relax.

” She turns to Sam. “They must have asked you too. But you were at work, right?”

Sam nods, but Donna can see that he suddenly looks uncomfortable.

Lizzie must notice it too because she repeats, “You were at work all day, right?”

There’s a long moment where the tension crackles.

Sam finally says, “She asked me, this morning. And I wasn’t at work all day.

I was out of the office for a couple of hours around lunch-time—I got something to eat and went to the park.

” He glances at each of them nervously. “I have nothing to do with Bryden going missing, of course I don’t. But what if they don’t believe me?”

Donna looks back at him, suddenly not sure what to think.

···

Jayne Salter has managed to get the Albany Police K-9 Unit to come search the condo building at 100 Constitution Drive.

The delay has been frustrating but unavoidable.

They’ll be arriving any minute. She stands in front of the building again now, waiting with Detective Kilgour beside her, her nerves humming.

She checks the time. It’s 5:35 p.m. Bryden Frost has been missing since sometime after roughly 12:45 the day before; approximately twenty-nine hours now.

The officers have finished questioning every inhabitant and every person who works in the building.

No one had seen Bryden the day before or noticed anything or anyone suspicious.

Background checks have turned up nothing on the inhabitants or employees, other than Kemp’s arrest and subsequent release, and a couple of DUIs on other residents.

Certainly nothing suspicious, and nothing to justify a search warrant.

But there could be someone in this building who is operating under their radar.

Someone unknown to police who might have Bryden in his apartment right now.

Jayne turns her mind to the search. They will start at Bryden’s unit, where they will get something with Bryden’s scent, an item of her clothing. There will be only one dog, able both to follow Bryden’s scent and to sniff out a dead body. Jayne wants to cover all the bases.

She sees the Albany Police K-9 Unit van arrive, emblazoned with signage declaring exactly what it is.

The van parks on the street in front of the condo and a uniformed officer jumps out of the van and closes the driver’s-side door.

People outside the building—residents, media, curiosity seekers—watch with interest. They know a woman is missing from this building, and they’re curious.

There are several news outfits outside the condo covering the disappearance, preparing updates for the six o’clock newscasts.

They are busily taking photographs and footage of the K-9 van. Jayne and Kilgour approach the officer.

Jayne says, “Detectives Jayne Salter and Tom Kilgour.”

“Officer Hank Bremmer,” he says.

“We’re glad you’re here.” She describes the situation to him.

He nods. “This is my best dog, and he’s ready to go.”

He moves to the back of the van, opens the door, and she sees a black-and-tan German shepherd on a lead.

The large dog bounds out of the van, looking eager.

He pulls a little on the lead, but a quiet word from Officer Bremmer makes him sit while he locks up the back of the van. “Let’s go, Brutus,” Bremmer says.

Jayne has already alerted the building manager, Ravi, about what they’re doing; they will need him and his keys once more to gain access to various parts of the building.

Now, she signals him from the glass door, and he buzzes them into the building.

Ravi stands behind the desk in the lobby looking concerned while they pass by with the dog and make their way into the elevator.

As they arrive on the eighth floor, Jayne takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.

She hasn’t let them know they’re coming; she wants to gauge their reactions.

She glances at Kilgour. He looks wired too.

The elevator doors slide open. Jayne says, “Unit 804,” and they walk down the carpeted corridor, the dog leading the way, straining at the lead. Jayne raps on the door.