Free Just One Look by Harlan Coben

nothing.”
    “My God. Look, let me get out of here. I’ll be right over.”
    “No,” she said. “I’m fine.”
    “You sure?”
    “Positive. I have some things to do,” she said lamely. She moved the phone to the other ear, unsure how to put this. “Has Jack been okay?”
    “You mean, at work?”
    “I mean anywhere.”
    “Yeah, sure, he’s Jack. You know.”
    “You haven’t noticed any change?”
    “We’ve both been stressed about these drug trials, if that’s what you mean. But nothing unusual. Grace, are you sure I shouldn’t come up?”
    There was a beep on her phone. Call Waiting. “I need to go, Dan. That’s the other line.”
    “Probably Jack. Call me if you need anything.”
    She clicked him off and checked the Caller ID. Not Jack. At least, not his cell. The number was blocked.
    “Hello?”
    “Ms. Lawson, this is Officer Daley. Has there been any word from your husband?”
    “No.”
    “We tried you at home.”
    “Right, I’m out.”
    There was a pause. “Where are you?”
    “In town.”
    “Where in town?”
    “I’m at the Photomat store.”
    A longer pause. “I don’t mean to sound judgmental, but isn’t that a strange place to be when you’re concerned about your husband?”
    “Officer Daley?”
    “Yes?”
    “There’s this new invention. It’s called the cell phone. In fact, you’re calling me on it right now.”
    “I didn’t mean to-”
    “Have you learned anything about my husband?”
    “That’s why I’m calling, actually. My captain is in now. He’d like to do a follow-up interview.”
    “A follow-up?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is that standard?”
    “Sure.” He sounded like it was anything but.
    “Have you found something?”
    “No, I mean, nothing to be alarmed about.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Captain Perlmutter and I just need more information, Mrs. Lawson.”
    Another Photomat customer, a recently streaked quasi-blonde about Grace’s own age, approached the empty store. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered inside. She too frowned and scoffed away.
    “You’re both at the station now?” Grace asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll be there in three minutes.”
     
    ***
     
    Captain Perlmutter asked, “How long have you and your husband lived in town?”
    They were jammed into an office more fitting for the school custodian than the police captain of a town. The Kasselton cops had moved their station house to the former town library, a building with history and tradition but very little comfort. Captain Stu Perlmutter sat behind his desk. He leaned back at the first question, hands resting on a tidy paunch. Officer Daley leaned against the door frame, trying to look comfortable.
    Grace said, “Four years.”
    “Like it here?”
    “Well enough.”
    “Great.” Perlmutter smiled at her, a teacher approving of the answer. “And you have kids, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “How old?”
    “Eight and six.”
    “Eight and six,” he repeated with a wistful smile. “Man, those are great ages. Not babies, and not teens yet.”
    Grace decided to wait him out.
    “Mrs. Lawson, has your husband ever disappeared before?”
    “No.”
    “Are there any problems with the marriage?”
    “None.”
    Perlmutter gave her a skeptical look. He didn’t wink, but he came close. “Everything is perfect, eh?”
    Grace said nothing.
    “How did you and your husband meet?”
    “Pardon?”
    “I asked-”
    “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “I’m just trying to get a feel here.”
    “A feel for what? Have you found something or not?”
    “Please.” Perlmutter tried on what he must have believed was a disarming smile. “I just need to get some stuff down. For background, okay? Where did you and Jack Lawson meet?”
    “In France.”
    He wrote it down. “You’re an artist, aren’t you, Mrs. Lawson?”
    “Yes.”
    “So you were overseas studying your art?”
    “Captain Perlmutter?”
    “Yes.”
    “No offense, but this line of questioning is