Free Gone for Good by Harlan Coben

federal agent who came by," she went on. "He said they don't know anything about it."
    "About what?" I asked.
    "About Carly," Mrs. Rogers said. "About where she is."
    I was confused. "Who's Carly?"
    There was another long pause. "May I give you a word of advice, Mr. Klein?"
    "Who's Carly?" I asked again.
    "Get on with your life. Forget you ever knew my daughter."
    And then she hung up.

8
    I grabbed a Brooklyn Lager from the fridge and slid open the glass door. I stepped out onto what my Realtor had optimistically dubbed a "veranda." It was the approximate size of a baby crib. One person, perhaps two, if they stood very still, could stand on it at one time. There were, of course, no chairs, and being on the third floor, not much of a view. But it was air and night and I still liked it.
    At night, New York is well lit and unreal, filled with a blue-black glow. This may be the city that never sleeps, but if my street was an indication, it could sneak in a serious nap. Parked cars sat crammed along the curb, bumper grinding bumper, seemingly jockeying for position long after their owners had abandoned them. Night sounds throbbed and hummed. I heard music. I heard clatter from the pizza place across the street. I heard the steady whooshing from the West Side Highway, gentle now, Manhattan 's lullaby.
    My brain slipped into numb. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what to do next. My call to Sheila's mother raised more questions than it answered. Melissa's words still stung, but she'd raised an interesting point: Now that I knew Ken was alive, what was I prepared to do about it?
    I wanted to find him, of course.
    I wanted to find him very badly. But so what? Forget the fact that I wasn't a detective or up to the task. If Ken wanted to be found, he'd come to me. Searching him out could only lead to disaster.
    And maybe I had another priority.
    First my brother had run off. Now my lover vanishes into thin air. I frowned. It was a good thing I didn't have a dog.
    I was raising the bottle to my lip when I noticed him.
    He stood on the corner, maybe fifty yards from my building. He wore a trench coat and what might have been a fedora, his hands in his pockets. His face from this distance looked like a white orb shining against a dark backdrop, featureless and too round. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew he was looking at me. I could feel it, the weight of his stare. It was palpable.
    The man didn't move.
    There weren't many pedestrians on the street, but the ones who were there, they, well, they moved. That was what New Yorkers did. They moved. They walked. They walked with purpose. Even when they stood for a light or passing car, they bounced, always at the ready. New Yorkers moved. There was no still in them.
    But this man stood like stone. Staring at me. I blinked hard. He was still there. I turned away and then looked back. He was still there, unmoving. And one more thing.
    Something about him was familiar.
    I didn't want to take that too far. We were at a pretty good distance and it was nighttime and my vision is not the best, especially in streetlight. But the hair on the back of my neck rose like on an animal sensing terrible danger.
    I decided to stare back, see how he reacted. He didn't move. I don't know how long we stood there like that. I could feel the blood leaving my fingertips. Cold settled in near the edges, but something at my center gathered strength. I didn't look away. And neither did the featureless face.
    The phone rang.
    I wrested my vision away. My watch said it was nearly eleven P.M. Late for a call. Without a backward glance, I stepped back inside and picked up the receiver.
    Squares said, "Sleepy?"
    "No."
    "Want to take a ride?"
    He was taking out the van tonight. "You learn something?"
    "Meet me at the studio. Half an hour." He hung up. I walked back to the terrace and looked down. The man was gone.
    The yoga school was simply called Squares. I made fun of it, of course. Squares had become one