Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

time Daphne couldn’t blame her.
    ‘Last night. He went to a movie and didn’t return to his dorm.’
    ‘How could you let this happen, Elizabeth?’ she demanded shrilly.
    Daphne bit her tongue. There were so many ways to reply. Most of them unproductive. ‘If you could pass this message on to Travis, I’d appreciate it. As I said, I’ll keep you apprised. If you hear anything, please call me. You have my number.’
    Daphne hung up, staring at the phone crunched into her fist. There, that was done. At least she hadn’t had to talk to Travis. She didn’t think she had the strength to deal with him at the moment.
    She had scarcely drawn a breath when her cell began to ring. The caller ID said Blocked number .
    Her heart stopped, then began to race. It’s the one who took Ford . He has my son . ‘There’s a blocked number calling in.’
    Coppola turned to meet Daphne’s eyes. ‘I’m texting Bo Lamar. Keep the caller on as long as possible. We’ll try to trace.’
    ‘I can record the call. Should I?’
    ‘Answer it while I find out if recording it will impact triangulation.’
    ‘Okay.’ Daphne sucked in a breath and answered. ‘Hello?’
    ‘What the fuck is going on, Daphne?’
    She flinched for the second time in five minutes, meeting Coppola’s gaze with a shake of her head. ‘It’s just my ex,’ she said quietly.
    Travis’s mother called her Elizabeth, because her first name was ‘far too vulgar for an Elkhart’. When they’d been married, Travis had bowed to his mother’s wishes, calling her Elizabeth as well. When he called her anything, that was. He’d pretty much ignored her from day one. Once the divorce papers were signed, he’d taken to calling her ‘Daphne’ in a way that made her name sound . . . like trash. Which was exactly how he’d treated her for the twelve years she’d borne his name. And raised his son.
    ‘ Just your ex?’ Travis said icily.
    ‘Yes, Travis. Just my ex. You’ll be contacted by Agent Lamar to have your phones tapped. Until then I suggest you start answering your phone, in case they call you instead of me.’
    ‘ “They”, meaning whoever kidnapped my son.’
    Daphne pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temple. ‘That would be the “they”.’
    ‘How could you let this happen?’ he asked, fury in his tone.
    Again she bit her tongue. ‘Ford is twenty. He is independent. I did not “let” this happen.’ Except that the Millhouses took him to punish me .
    She should tell this to Travis, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
    ‘That’s what comes from going to college in the ghetto. If he’d gone to Princeton . . .’
    She let him rant. Arguing never did any good. Not when Travis knew he was right. Which was always. When he paused to breathe, she cut him off. ‘I have to go. Next time I call, please make yourself available.’ She hung up and leaned her head against the seat. ‘That was fun.’
    Hector was frowning. ‘In all due respect . . . Wow. I thought my ex was bad.’
    ‘Yeah. Well. You probably should set up a phone tapping at the estate. Just in case.’ In case this isn’t because of me . Except it is . My fault . All my fault .
    ‘The estate?’ Hector asked carefully.
    ‘River Oaks, in Northern Virginia, Loudoun County. About an hour west of here.’
    ‘Horse country,’ Hector said. ‘Is it a ranch?’
    Daphne laughed bitterly. ‘No. That would be vulgar. It’s an estate. Family money. They have stables and grooms. But the land is not an “economic enterprise”.’
    ‘Okay,’ Hector said slowly. ‘Upper crust?’
    ‘The crustiest. They’ll cooperate because my ex-husband is very politically minded. He won’t want to anger law enforcement. His mother will observe all the proprieties.’
    Hector looked genuinely confused. ‘But this is his son, too.’
    ‘Yes, he is. But there’s . . . friction. In the divorce, they made Ford choose.’
    ‘He chose you.’ Hector sighed. ‘Hell of a thing to do to a kid.’
    ‘Ms Montgomery.’ Kate Coppola kept a vigilant watch on the cars that crawled alongside them in mid-day traffic. ‘Why do you record your calls?’
    ‘Because of the death threats from the Millhouses. I got a wire-tap warrant first. I didn’t want to give them any ammunition.’ She winced at her word choice. ‘Hell.’
    ‘Do you have any of those threats saved on your phone?’ Coppola asked.
    ‘Yes. The police have them, too.’ Daphne scrolled through