1
The McKay Residence
Woodlawn, Bronx, New York
Friday, March 10, 2:18 p.m.
Maureen McKay carried her bags of groceries into the house, smiling as she contemplated her menu for that Sunday’s dinner. It would be the first family meal in ages where all four of her adult children would be there with her and Colin, sitting around the dining room table, eating, bantering, and laughing.
Just like old times, with the welcome addition of significant others.
The past decade of being an empty-nester had been hard on Maureen. Despite filling her time volunteering at the local library, she was still first and foremost a mother. She’d longed for that role ever since she and Colin were married thirty-five years ago. Their first son, Nolan, had been born one year later, followed by Garret, then Ryan, and finally Fiona. And now, even though all four kids had left the nest, Maureen’s commitment to them remained strong.
On that thought, Maureen slid out of her coat and began putting away the perishables. Mentally reviewing what she planned to serve, she applauded herself for choosing Shepherd’s pie as a main course. Everyone loved it, and the boys devoured huge portions, with Colin not far behind.
Her cheery thoughts were interrupted by the bing of her cell phone, alerting her to the fact that she’d received a text message.
She scowled, hoping none of her kids were cancelling. If they were, she’d certainly be giving them a piece of her mind.
Plucking her iPhone out of her handbag, she glanced at it with a blank expression. She didn’t recognize the phone number. Probably an obnoxious scam.
She was about to simply delete the message, when a little voice inside her made her change her mind. She had no idea what prompted that little voice, but she heeded it and clicked into the text.
Her brows rose when she realized the message was from Shane. Her nephew worked for the FBI, and wasn’t in the habit of contacting her in the middle of the day. Certainly not from a strange phone number.
As she read, her chest tightened:
Aunt Maureen. Urgent. Get Kennedy at school. Only you. NOW. Do NOT let her go home. Shane
Maureen’s grip tightened around the iPhone, a hundred unanswered questions crowding her mind. She couldn’t help herself; she texted back, holding her breath as she did:
Shane. I’m frightened. What’s the emergency? Where’s Caitlin? Please answer.
One second. Two seconds.
No received confirmation. And no response.
Desperate, she called the number. An automated voice answered, “The number you have reached is not in service at this time. This is a recording.”
Maureen hung up, her breath coming faster, as panic seized her. Explanations would have to wait. A quick glance at the time told her there was no wiggle room. Kennedy would be getting out of her fourth grade class in under an hour. Clearly, her mother wasn’t picking her up, which was unprecedented and unnerving. The implication was that no other arrangements had been made.
Still clutching her cell phone, Maureen considered using the Uber app that Ryan had installed for her. But she’d never tried it, not even set up an account. That would take time—time she didn’t have. Not to mention, it would take the driver who knows how long to get here.
The local taxi service, just two blocks away, made much more sense.
She called them, stressed that this was an emergency, and was told the cab would be on its way in moments. She grabbed her purse, locked the front door, and waited outside.
Four minutes later, the cab pulled up to her house. She climbed in and gave the driver the address of Kennedy’s elementary school.
Moments later, the cab was flying up the Bronx River Parkway to its destination-- and Maureen was praying.
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Tribeca, Manhattan, New York
2:40 p.m.
The Forensic Instincts brownstone was pulsing with energy.
