Run Away - Harlan Coben Page 0,15
showed them a text like that. He’d get laughed out of the station.
“There’s another”—Thorpe looked into the air—“‘but,’ if you will.”
“What’s that?”
“Henry has been in some trouble with the law.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Minor stuff. Drugs. Possession.”
“Has he served time?”
“No. Nothing really serious. He got community service. A sealed juvie record. You understand.”
Oh yeah, Elena understood.
“Has Henry disappeared before?”
Thorpe stared at the window.
“Mr. Thorpe?”
“He’s run off before, if that’s what you mean.”
“More than once?”
“Yes. But this is different.”
“Uh-huh,” Elena said. “How do you and your son get along?”
A sad smile came to his face. “Used to be great. Best buds.”
“And now?”
He tapped his chin with his forefinger. “Our relationship has been strained of late.”
“Why’s that?”
“Henry doesn’t like Abby.”
“Abby?”
“My new wife.”
Elena picked up the framed photograph from the desk. “This Abby?”
“Yes. I know what you’re thinking.”
Elena nodded. “That she’s smoking hot?”
He grabbed away the frame. “I don’t need you to judge me.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m judging Abby. And my judgment is, she’s smoking hot.”
Thorpe frowned. “Maybe calling you was a mistake.”
“Maybe, but let’s recap what we know about your son Henry. One, he sent you a text saying he was traveling west for two weeks with some friends. Two, he’s disappeared before—several times, in fact. Three, he’s been arrested on a variety of drugs charges. Anything I’m missing? Oh, right, four, he resents your relationship with Abby, who looks to be about his age.”
“Abby is almost five years older than Henry,” Thorpe snapped.
Elena said nothing.
Thorpe deflated right in front of her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You can go.”
“Yeah, not so fast.”
“Pardon me?”
“You’re clearly worried about him,” Elena said. “My question is: Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not hiring you.”
“Humor me,” she said.
“The text message.”
“What about it?”
“It’s going to sound stupid.”
“Go for it.”
“The other times Henry disappeared…well, he just disappeared.”
Elena nodded. “He didn’t send you a text message telling you he was disappearing. He would just run off.”
“Yes.”
“So texting you like this—it’s out of character.”
Thorpe nodded slowly.
“And that’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Not very convincing evidence,” Elena said.
“The police didn’t think so either.”
Thorpe rubbed his face with his hands. She could see now that he hadn’t slept in a while, that the cheeks were ruddy but the skin around the eyes was too pale, drained of color.
“Thank you for your time, Miss Ramirez. I won’t be needing your services.”
“Oh, I think you will,” Elena said.
“Excuse me?”
“I took the liberty of doing a little digging before I arrived.”
That got his attention. “What do you mean?”
“You said your son sent you a text from his phone.”
“Right.”
“Before I got here, I pinged that phone.”
Thorpe narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean exactly? ‘Pinged’?”
“Truth? I don’t have a clue. But the shorthand is, I got a genius tech guy named Lou. Lou can send a ping—whatever that is—to a cell phone, and the cell phone pings back its location.”
“So you could see where Henry is?”
“Theoretically, yes.”
“And you did that already?”
“Lou did, yes.”
“So where is he?”
“That’s just it,” Elena said. “There was no answer to our ping.”
Thorpe blinked several times. “I don’t understand. Are you saying his phone should have…pinged you back?”
“I am,” Elena said.
“Maybe Henry just turned his phone off.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s a common misconception. Turning your phone off does not turn off the GPS.”
“So anyone can track you anytime?”
“In theory the police need a warrant and probable cause to get your service provider to do it.”
“Yet you were able to do it,” Thorpe said. “How?”
Elena did not reply.
Thorpe nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “So what does it mean—that you couldn’t get his phone to ping?”
“Could be a lot of things. Could be something completely innocent. Maybe Henry figured you’d hire someone like me so he changed phones.”
“But you doubt it?”
Elena shrugged again. “Fifty-fifty—maybe more—that there is a rational explanation for all this and Henry is fine.”
“But you still think I should hire you?”
“You buy burglary insurance, even though there is maybe half of one percent chance your home will be robbed.”
Thorpe nodded. “Well put.”
“I figure I’m worth the peace of mind, if nothing else.”
Thorpe played with his phone and brought up a picture of his younger self holding an infant in his arms. “Gretchen…that’s my first wife…she and I couldn’t have kids. We tried everything. Hormones, surgeries, three rounds of IVF. Then we adopted Henry.”
There was a smile on his face now, albeit a wistful one.
“Where is Gretchen now?”
“She died ten years ago, when Henry had just started high school. It was hard on him. I tried my best. I really did.