One immediately caught his eye. It was a Christmas card with the MacKenzie family standing in front of their Christmas tree. It reminded Barrott of the Christmas card that he and Beth had sent in December, the two of them with the kids, Melissa and Rick, standing in front of their Christmas tree. He still had that card in his desk somewhere.

The MacKenzies got a lot more dolled up for their picture than we did, Barrott thought. The father and son were in tuxedos, the mother and daughter in evening gowns. But the overall effect was the same. A smiling, happy family wishing their friends the joys of Christmas and greetings for the New Year. It had to be the last one they sent before the son disappeared.

Now Charles MacKenzie Jr. had been missing for ten years, and Charles MacKenzie Sr. had been dead since 9/11.

Barrott rummaged through some personal papers in his desk and pulled out his family’s card. He rested his elbows on the desk and held up the two Christmas cards, comparing them. I’m lucky, he thought. Rick has just finished his freshman year at Fordham on the dean’s list, and Melissa, another straight-A kid, is finishing her junior year at Cathedral High and going to a prom tonight. Beth and I are more than lucky. We’re blessed.

The thought crossed his mind, suppose something happened to me on this job, and Rick walked out of his dorm and disappeared. What if I wasn’t around to find him?

Rick wouldn’t do that to his mother and sister, not in one hundred thousand years, he told himself.

But that, in essence, is what Carolyn MacKenzie wants me to believe about her brother.

Slowly, Barrott closed the Charles MacKenzie Jr. file and slid it into the top drawer of his desk. I’ll look it over in the morning, he decided, and maybe drop in on some of those people who gave statements at that time. Can’t hurt to ask some questions and see if their memories got refreshed along the way.