Free The Moon Pool by Sophie Littlefield Page A

disappeared?”
    â€œLet me guess,” Weyant said wearily. “You like watching cop shows. No, look, don’t get all in a twist. It’s just, to put it mildly, they can give you an unrealistic idea of how that sort of thing proceeds. Even if we had the boys’ phone numbers—”
    â€œGosh, too bad they wouldn’t have been all over the lodge’s rec-ords,” Shay interrupted. “Or their employment applications, for that matter. Or in Sergeant Sanders’s notes, since I told him.”
    â€œEven if we had the numbers,” Weyant continued, ignoring her, “they’re likely to be with out-of-state carriers, and we can’t just fax them a picture of our badges. It’s a little more complicated than that.”
    â€œWell, I’ll tell you what,” Colleen said, reaching across the desk to a little bronzed stand holding the chief’s business cards. She handed one to Shay and jotted a phone number on the back of another, along with the word Sprint. Then she added her own name and phone number. “We’ll give you their phone numbers right now. Carriers, too. There, we just saved you two steps. I put my phone number on there too, so you can reach me whenever you have something to report. Feel free to share it with your officers. Now, what happens next?”
    Weyant blinked, looking both angry and a little overwhelmed. “What happens next is I thank you for your input, and I go back to doing my job, which is to put my limited resources and budget to work the best way I can see. Yes, I will follow up with these numbers and I will review the case with my staff. But you want to be the one to explain to all these people”—he smacked his hand down on a stack of folders stuffed with paperwork—“why you’re more important than they are? You want to know what else I’m dealing with? How about a woman whose boyfriend hit her so hard her teeth went through her lip? Or this one, we got a six-year-old who disappeared Tuesday, and his father’s missing too, and he’s got a known meth problem and a gun.”
    He was breathing hard, leaning over his desk, looking like he wanted to sweep the folders to the floor. It was time to go. They’d pushed as hard as they were going to get away with—for now.
    â€œYou’ll follow up and let us know,” Colleen said, standing with dignity. “We appreciate that. But let me add one thing. I can mobilize the press in my own hometown easily. Maybe you don’t care much what they’re saying about Lawton and its police department in the greater Boston area. But my husband is a respected attorney with contacts all over the country, and he won’t hesitate to involve the media if we feel that the police are not giving our son’s disappearance sufficient attention.”
    She turned and headed for the door. Shay stood too, as did Weyant. “As for me, I may be nobody,” Shay said, “and I don’t have money and I don’t know anyone important. But I won’t go down quiet. This is my son who’s missing. I’m his mom , and I don’t have anything to lose.”
    She closed the door behind her, harder than she intended, the sound getting the attention of everyone in adjoining offices. Shay could feel her face burning as she strode after Colleen, refusing to meet the eyes of the people they passed.
    They didn’t speak as they exited the building or on the way to the car. Shay slid into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, but she didn’t turn it. Colleen put her seat belt on and sat with her arms folded, staring straight ahead.
    Then she started to shake. Shay watched Colleen’s careful composure disintegrate, torn between sympathy and the knowledge that it was going to get a lot harder before it got any easier.
    â€œYou did good,” she said quietly, as silent tears streamed down Colleen’s