When his alarm went off at 5:45am, Tom Bishop, who hadn’t been sleeping, climbed out of bed wearing only boxer shorts, pulled on a T-shirt, and moved down the hallway to Alice’s room.

He opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb her, only to find his wife sitting up in bed watching television. He watched her for a moment, not thinking or feeling anything, just giving her the opportunity to let him know if she wanted or needed anything. When she finally looked at him, she didn’t speak, and there was nothing like a question or request in her eyes. Eventually her attention returned to the TV. Tom closed the door and walked away.

After showering and shaving, he put on a pair of pressed black slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. His usual uniform. Standing in front of his bedroom mirror, he put on a black necktie, tying a perfect four-in-hand knot on his first attempt. As usual. Then he grabbed a suit jacket out of the closet and went downstairs.

It was only when he was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring into a freshly-brewed cup of coffee, that he realized he had nowhere to go.

The F.B.I. didn’t want him. Carol had placed him on involuntary leave, giving him no indication as to when he might be able to return. He suspected he wouldn’t be asked back until Walker Sheffield was in custody. But what would happen if the trail went cold and Walker was never found? Would they ask Tom back then? Or would having him there to remind them of their failure be too much for them to bear?

He was in the living room, sitting on the sofa with his third cup of coffee, when the phone started to ring. He ignored it until after the fourth ring, then turned and stared at it where it sat on the end table as it rang two more times. On the seventh ring, he picked it up.

“Tom Bishop.”

A recorded voice informed him that he had an international collect call from Ryan Sheffield. He accepted the charges.

“Hello? Hello?”

The connection was strong. The recording had said international, but Ryan could’ve been calling from down the street. Tom sat up and set his cup down, alert in a way that he hadn’t been since he’d received the news.

“Hello, Ryan. This is Tom Bishop.”

There was a pause. Was the connection faltering, or was the boy hesitating? Tom couldn’t be sure.

“Hi. Mr. Bishop. It’s Ryan.”

“Sure, I know.”

“Of course. Right.”

In the background, Tom could hear a collision of noises. Ryan was in a busy place.

“What can I do for you?” Tom Bishop asked.

“I was wondering…” The boy’s voice trailed off. Then he asked, “Is Michelle there? I mean, have they found her? Has she been found?”

“You want to speak with Michelle.”

“Yes. If she’s there.”

“So…”

The boy didn’t know. Walker Sheffield had run off with his family, but they didn’t know — or at least Ryan didn’t know — why they were running.

“So what?” Ryan asked.

“So where are your parents?”

“They’re here.”

Tom could hear that the boy was holding back. He might not have known why they were running, but he knew they were on the run.

“Alright,” said Tom, deciding not to push.

“Can I, uh, talk to Michelle?”

“Sure. She’s been asking about you, you know.”

“She has?”

Ryan sounded so pleased. When he found out the truth, he’d be crushed.

“She showed up the day you disappeared,” Tom said. “She’s been wondering where you went.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. So, where are you, Ryan? Where’d you go?”

***

Jane had come off the plane drunk and desperate for a smoke. Walker had come off anxious. When they’d passed through passport control, the officer had spent an exceptional amount of time scrutinizing them, and Walker had almost lost it.

“He was waving everybody else through,” Walker said afterward, “hardly looking at their passports. Why bother us?”

Ryan sat on a bench inside the terminal and watched his parents smoke on the sidewalk outside. Jane seemed angry and afraid, gesticulating frantically as she harangued her husband about something. For his part, Walker stood motionless before her, his anxiety showing only in the way that he shot glances at everyone who walked past.

Hours went by while discussed where to go from there. They had lunch there, then went shopping, Walker picking out hiking boots and a rain jacket for Ryan, along with a small backpack. Ryan had run out of books on the flight, so he insisted on visiting the bookstore. Then, finally, Walker let Ryan know what he and Jane had decided. They would be staying in Switzerland.

“What’s going on?” Ryan asked, not for the first time.

“Like I told you, a bit of a misunderstanding,” Walker said, as if a bit of a misunderstanding could cause a family to abruptly fly halfway round the world. As if Ryan would believe that. For the first time he could remember, his father was insulting his intelligence.

“Something Mom needs to clear up at work,” Walker continued. “Until then, we’re just on a little spontaneous vacation.”

When Walker and Jane left Ryan on his own to go speak with someone at the visitor center, Ryan decided to use the opportunity to call Michelle. When he’d left, she’d still been missing, and he hadn’t stopped wondering if she was okay. He had to speak with her — but unfortunately Tom Bishop had answered the phone, and now Ryan was being asked a question he wasn’t sure he could answer.

“So, where are you, Ryan? Where’d you go?”

Ryan was standing at a bank of phones across a wide, busy space from the visitor center, and he could see his parents inside speaking with one of the staff. Jane, still drunk, was again upset about something. Walker, still anxious, was doing his best to calm her down. The woman trying to help them was the epitome of smiling patience.

“I’m not sure I can tell you,” Ryan said.

“Why not?” Tom asked.

He was being friendly. Tom Bishop had never been friendly to Ryan before.

“My parents.” It was an excuse kids used — simply mentioning their parents — for something they couldn’t do. It only worked on other kids.

“Can I talk to your dad?”

“Probably not,” Ryan said, and just then he saw Walker glance in his direction. He was mostly concealed by the phone, but he still wondered if his father had seen him. “I don’t have much time. Can I talk to Michelle?”

“Are you in danger, Ryan?”

Why was he asking that?

“No, of course not,” Ryan insisted.

“Okay,” Tom said. “Then I’ll get Michelle for you. Hang on.”

“Alright.”

Ryan took another peek at the visitor center. Walker was being shown something on a computer monitor and listening to the smiling woman with unfeigned interest. Jane had calmed down. She was sitting now and not speaking, and her eyes were on the floor.

Over a public address system, a German-language announcement began, followed by what Ryan assumed was the same announcement in French. Only when English came around did Ryan realize that departure times and destinations were being given for a train station underneath the airport. He heard Zurich, Geneva and Bern, as well as the names of other cities unfamiliar to him. Then he remembered the phone.

“Mr. Bishop?” Ryan asked urgently. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” Tom answered right away. “I’m here.”

The earlier friendliness was gone, replaced by something so grave it made Ryan shudder.

“Michelle can’t come to the phone right now,” Tom went on. “But I’ll see you soon.”

***

Zurich, Geneva, Bern.

Switzerland.

Tom Bishop hung up without saying goodbye and immediately called Reto Barandun, his contact at the Swiss Federal Department of Justice and Police. After making a few arrangements with Reto, he packed a small bag with some essentials and left his house for what would be the last time.

At the airport, he called Carol Shaw.

“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he told her. “Can you have someone look after Alice?”

“Of course,” Carol said. “But where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said, “and hopefully you won’t find out.”

“Is there anything I can do to stop you?”

“No.”

“Then will you at least promise to contact me if you need help?”

“No.”

He saw that they were about to close his gate. He disconnected and removed the battery from his phone just before dropping both items into the nearest garbage can. Then he boarded his flight.