Earlier that day Marco had gone out and brought an armful of the toys and notes in to her, to cheer her up. That was a mistake he won’t make again. Many of the notes were venomous, even shocking. She read a few of them, gasped, balled them up, and threw them to the floor.

She twitches the curtains with her fingers and looks out again. This time a thrill of horror slides down her back. She recognizes the women coming single file down the sidewalk toward the house, pushing their baby strollers: it is three—no—four women from her moms’ group. The reporters fall away to let them through, sensing impending drama. Anne watches in disbelief. Surely, she thinks, they have not come to visit her with their babies.

She sees the one in front, Amalia—mother of cute, brown-eyed Theo—reach beneath her stroller and grab what looks like a large container of prepared food. The other women behind her do the same thing, applying the brakes to their strollers, reaching for covered dishes in the baskets beneath the seats.

Such kindness, and such thoughtless cruelty. She can’t bear it. A sob escapes Anne as she turns abruptly from the window.

“What is it?” Marco says, alarmed, coming up to her.

He pushes the curtain aside and looks out the window at the sidewalk.

“Get rid of them!” Anne whispers. “Please.”

? ? ?

On Monday morning at nine o’clock, Detective Rasbach requests that Marco and Anne come to the police station for formal questioning. “You are not under arrest,” he assures them as they stare back at him, dumbstruck. “We would like to take a statement from each of you and ask a few more questions.”

“Why can’t you do that here?” Anne asks, in obvious distress. “Like you’ve been doing?”

“Why do we have to go to the station?” Marco echoes, looking appalled.

“It’s standard procedure,” Rasbach says. “Would you like some time to freshen up first?” he suggests.

Anne shakes her head, as if she doesn’t care what she looks like.

Marco does nothing at all, just stares at his feet.

“Okay, then, let’s go,” Rasbach says, and leads the way.

When he opens the front door, there is a flurry of activity. The reporters cluster around the front steps, cameras flashing. “Are they under arrest?” someone calls out.

Rasbach answers no questions and remains stonily silent as he steers Marco and Anne through the crush to the police cruiser parked in front of the house. He opens the rear door, and Anne goes in first and slides across the backseat. Marco steps in after her. No one speaks, except the reporters, who clamor after them with their questions. Rasbach climbs into the passenger seat, and the car pulls away. The photographers run after them, taking pictures.

Anne stares out the window. Marco tries to hold her hand, but she pulls it away. She watches the familiar city pass by the window—the produce stand on the corner, the park where she and Cora sit on a blanket in the shade and watch children splash in the wading pool. They cross the city—now they are not far from the art gallery where she used to work, close to the river. Then they are going past the Art Deco building where Marco has his office, and then suddenly they are out of downtown. It all looks very different from the back of a police cruiser, on the way to be questioned in the disappearance of your own child.

When they arrive at the police station, a modern building of concrete and glass, the cruiser stops at the front doors and Rasbach shepherds them in. There are no reporters here—there had been no advance warning that Anne and Marco would be taken in for questioning.

When they walk into the station, a uniformed officer at a circular front desk glances up with interest. Rasbach hands Anne over to a female officer. “Take her to Interview Room Three,” Rasbach tells her.

Anne looks at Marco in alarm. “Wait. I want to be with Marco. Can’t we be together?” Anne asks. “Why are you separating us?”

Marco says, “It’s okay, Anne. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. We haven’t done anything. They just want to ask us some questions, and then they’re going to let us go, isn’t that right?” he says to Rasbach, a hint of challenge in his voice.

“That’s right,” the detective says smoothly. “As I said, you are not under arrest. You are here voluntarily. You are free to leave at any time.”

Marco stands still and watches Anne go down the hall with the female officer. She turns and looks back at him. She’s terrified.

“Come with me,” Rasbach says. He takes Marco into an interview room at the end of the hall. Detective Jennings is already there. The room contains a metal table with a single chair on one side and two chairs on the other side for the detectives.

Marco doesn’t trust himself to make any sense, to keep things straight. He can feel the exhaustion hitting him. He tells himself to talk slowly, to think before he answers.

Rasbach is wearing a clean suit and a fresh shirt and tie. He is newly shaven. Jennings is, too. Marco is wearing old jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt that he hauled out of his drawer that morning. He hadn’t known he was going to be brought down to the station. He realizes now that he should have taken advantage of the detective’s offer to shower, shave, change clothes. He would have felt more alert, more in control. And he would have looked less like a criminal on the permanent recording of this interview; he has just realized that he is probably going to be videotaped.

Marco sits down and nervously watches the two detectives standing across the table from him. It’s different being here, instead of in his own home. It’s frightening. He feels the shift of control.

“If it’s okay with you, we’re going to videotape this interview,” Rasbach says. He gestures to a camera positioned just below the ceiling, pointing toward them at the table.

Marco has no idea if he really has a choice. He hesitates for a fraction of a second, then says, “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Would you like some coffee?” Rasbach offers.

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” Marco says. He tries to relax. He reminds himself he is here to help the police find out who has taken his child.

Rasbach and Jennings go out to get coffee, leaving Marco alone to fret.

When the two detectives return, Rasbach places Marco’s paper cup on the table in front of him. Marco sees that he has brought him two sugars and one cream—Rasbach has remembered how Marco takes his coffee. As Marco fumbles with the sugar packets, his hands are trembling. They all notice.

“Please state your name and today’s date,” Rasbach says, and they begin.

The detective leads him through a series of straightforward questions that establish Marco’s version of what happened on the night of the kidnapping. It is a rehash of what has gone before, nothing new. Marco can feel himself relaxing as the interview progresses. Finally he thinks they’re finished, that they’re about to let him go. His relief is enormous, although he’s careful not to show it. He has time then to wonder how it’s going in the other room, with Anne.

“Good, thank you,” Rasbach says when they’ve taken his statement. “Now, if you don’t mind, I just have a few more questions.”

Marco, who had started to rise out of his metal chair, sits back down.

“Tell us about your company, Conti Software Design.”

“Why?” Marco asks. “What has my company got to do with anything?” He stares at Rasbach, trying to hide his dismay. But he knows what they’re getting at. They’ve been looking into him; of course they have.

“You started your company about five years ago?” Rasbach prompts.

“Yes,” Marco says. “I have degrees in business and computer science. I’d always wanted to go into business for myself. I saw an opportunity in software design—specifically, in designing user interfaces for medical software. So I started my own company. I’ve got some key clients. A small staff of software-design professionals, all working remotely. Mostly we visit clients on site, so I travel a fair bit on business. I keep an office downtown myself. We’ve been quite successful.”