“I didn’t have the number with me. He hardly uses that phone. But maybe his cell is damaged or lost. Thanks for the suggestion. I’ll call his house right now.” An ounce of relief washed away some of my anxiety.

“Call me back after you talk to him—either now or later,” Kara said. “I don’t like to hear such strain in your voice.”

I hung up, the chill in the house making me shiver. No afternoon sun to warm things up. The murky, cloud-dulled day meant the cold would linger on. After I turned the thermostat up to seventy, I went through the living area and down the hall to my home office. I took my address book from my desk drawer. All three cats followed and jumped up on the mahogany surface to check out what I was doing.

Merlot crooned his concern—he has a special sound for intense interest in my state of mind. When I’m upset, all three of them seem to sense it and follow me everywhere. If I were to sit down on my sofa right now, they would be all over me.

First thing I did was add Tom’s landline number to the contacts on my cell phone. Then I hit call. His answering machine picked up.

Darn it.

I didn’t bother to leave a message, just disconnected. His voice on the answering machine greeting, so engaging and cheerful, made my stomach clench.

Trust your instincts. This disappearance isn’t like Tom.

I looked at the three curious feline faces staring up at me. “I have to do more than make phone calls, friends. I’m sure you’ll take much-needed cat naps while I’m gone.”

Tom lives about a five-minute drive away in a secluded neighborhood within walking distance from his mother, Karen’s, place. His mother. While I was traveling home, I’d considered calling her. But Karen is an odd bird. If I alarmed her unnecessarily, Tom would end up receiving endless visits from her when he did come home—or she might even take up residence in his guest room for a while. No. I couldn’t call her. Not yet.