Free A Tap on the Window by Linwood Barclay Page B

But”—she looked at me—“it’s not the sort of thing I can talk to you about on the phone.” A pause, then, with forced cheerfulness, “Hope you’re having fun.”
    Glynis ended the call. “She’ll either call back or she won’t. She probably saw it was me and didn’t answer. She sees our name and generally ignores it. I could text her, but it wouldn’t make any difference.”
    Rodomski shook his head. “Which is really a pain in the ass when you need to get in touch with her. You got kids?”
    I hesitated. “A son.”
    Rodomski nodded enviously. “You’re better off, believe me. Girls can get into so much more trouble.”
    “Have Hanna and Claire been friends a long time?” I asked.
    “Since around seventh grade, I think,” Glynis said. “They’re inseparable. Sleeping over at each other’s houses, trading clothes, going on school trips.”
    “What do you know about Claire?” I asked.
    Glynis shrugged. “She’s a nice girl.”
    Her husband said, “She’s the mayor’s daughter, you know.” A pause. “That horse’s ass.”
    “You’re not a fan?”
    Chris shook his head. “You watch the news? You see the kind of things going on half an hour’s drive south of here? You want that kind of thing happening in Griffon? Far as I’m concerned, the cops here do what they have to do, and I’m okay with it. Bert Sanders is more worried about some troublemaker’s rights than he is about our right to be able to be safe in our beds at night. I signed that petition. Signed it more than once. Every store I go into, I sign it. How about you?”
    “I never seem to have a pen on me,” I said.
    “You either support Chief Perry or you don’t, that’s how I feel.”
    “The chief and I have a complicated relationship,” I said. I wasn’t interested in talking politics any longer. I turned to his wife and asked, “When’s the last time you saw Hanna?”
    She glanced at her husband and then back at me. “I didn’t hear her come in last night, and I guess she was off to school pretty early this—”
    “Hanna didn’t come home last night,” Chris said. “For God’s sake, Glynis, stop fooling yourself.”
    “If she didn’t come home, where was she?”
    “With that boy. Sean. She’s over at his house most nights.”
    “He lives with his parents?”
    Rodomski nodded. “I guess they don’t see anything wrong with it. A girl shacked up in their house with their son.”
    “Shacked up,” Glynis said mockingly. “What century are you from?”
    “I need Hanna’s cell phone number,” I said to both of them, “and an address for Sean Skilling.”
    “I can give you the number, but I don’t know exactly where the Skillings live,” Glynis said. “I’m sure they’re in the book, though.”
    She recited the number, which I scribbled into my notebook. “They go to school together?”
    Glynis nodded. “And Sean has a car.”
    “What kind?”
    She looked hopelessly at her husband. “It’s a pickup,” he said. “Probably a Ford. You know Skilling Ford, just outside of town?”
    I did.
    “That’s them.”
    “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Rodomski?”
    “I’m a financial adviser,” he said.
    “Here in Griffon?”
    “No, we have an office down on Military Road.” He pronounced it “milltree,” like everyone else around here did.
    “I work, too,” Glynis said indignantly. “Looking after him and our daughter. That’s a full-time job.”
    “One of Glynis’ little jokes,” Chris Rodomski said wearily. “She thinks if it’s funny once, it’s funny a hundred times.”
    I handed them each a business card. “If Hanna comes home before I run into her, give me a call. Maybe by then I’ll have found Claire anyway.”
    They each took a card without looking at it.
    “One last question. What’s this business you mentioned?”
    “Hmm?” Glynis said, playing dumb.
    “When I came in, you asked if this was about that business they’ve been running. You said you told Hanna it