Levon's nightstand favored his left brain to Barb's right: his neat stack of annual reports, annotated copy of Against All Reason, pen and notepad, and a platoon of electronics – phones, laptop, weather clock – all lined up four inches from the table's edge, plugged into a power strip behind the lamp.

The snowfall had wrapped the house in a white silence – and then a ringing phone jarred Levon awake. His heartbeat boomed, and his mind reeled in instant panic. What was happening?

Again the phone rang, and this time Levon made a grab for the landline.

He glanced at the clock, which read 3:14 a.m., and wondered who the hell would be calling at this hour. And then he knew. It was Kim. She was five hours behind them. He figured she'd gotten that mixed up somehow.

“Kim? Honey?” Levon said into the mouthpiece.

“Kim is gone,” said the male voice in Levon's ear.

Levon's chest tightened, and he couldn't catch his breath. Was he having a heart attack? “Sorry? What did you say?”

Barb sat up in bed, turned on the light.

“Levon?” she said. “What is it?”

Levon held up a hand. Give me a second. “Who is this?” he asked, rubbing his chest to ease the pain.

“I only have a minute, so listen carefully. I'm calling from Hawaii. Kim's disappeared.” ”.”

Levon's fear filled him from scalp to toes with a cold terror. He clung to the phone, hearing the echo of the man's voice: “”.”

It made no sense.

“I don't get you. Is she hurt?”

No answer.

“Hello?”

“Are you listening to what I'm saying, Mr. McDaniels?”

“Yes. Who is this speaking, please?”

“I can only tell you once.”

Levon pulled at the neck of his T-shirt, trying to decide what to think. Was the man a liar, or telling the truth? He knew his name, phone number, that Kim was in Hawaii. How did he know all that?