And there was no one in it.

There were two large plastic Rubbermaid garbage containers in the corner. It had never occurred to me before that they were each large enough to hold a person, but my mind was going places it had never gone before. I approached the cans, put my hand on the lid of the first one, held it there a moment, and then lifted it off.

Inside was a bag of garbage.

The second can was empty.

Back in the kitchen, I found our laptop, folded shut, beside the phone, half buried in mail from the last couple of days and a handful of flyers.

I took it over to the kitchen table, hit the on button, and drummed my fingers waiting for it to do its thing. Once it was up and running, I opened the photo program. We had gone to Chicago last fall, and it was the last time I’d moved pictures from the digital camera into the computer.

I looked through the photos. Jan and Ethan standing under the passenger jet at the Museum of Science and Industry. Another one of them in front of the Burlington Zephyr streamlined passenger train. The two of them wandering through Millennium Park, eating cheese corn from Garrett’s, their fingers and mouths orange with cheese powder.

Most of the pictures were of Jan and Ethan, since I was the one who usually took the pictures. But there was one shot of Ethan and me together, down by the water, sailboats in the background, him sitting on my lap.

I zeroed in on two shots that were particularly good of Jan. Her black hair, longer last fall than now, partly covered the left side of her face, but not enough to obscure her features. Her brown eyes, soft cheekbones, small nose, the almost imperceptible L-shaped scar on the left side of her chin, the one she got falling off a bike when she was in her teens. At her throat, a slender necklace with a small pendant designed to look like a cupcake, with diamondlike frosting and cake of gold, something Jan had had since she was a child.

I dug Detective Duckworth’s card from my pocket and sent the picture to the email address that was embossed on it. I added two more pictures-not quite as good, but from different angles-to the email, just to be sure he had enough.

I added a note to the last one. “I think the first shot shows her best, but I added a couple more. I’m going to look for more and will send them to you. Please call if you hear anything.” I also printed out a couple dozen copies of that first shot.

I reached over for the phone and set it on the kitchen table. I didn’t want to wait for Duckworth to check his emails. I wanted him to know he had the photos now, so I dialed his cell.

“Duckworth,” he said.

“It’s David Harwood,” I said. “I just sent you the pictures.”

“You’re home?”

“Yes.”

“Any sign of her? Phone message, anything?”

There’d been no flashing light, and there were no new email messages. “Nothing,” I said.

“Okay, well, we’ll get those pictures of your wife out right away.”

“I’ll talk to the Standard,” I said, thinking that my next call would be to the city desk. There was still time to get Jan’s picture in the Sunday edition.

“Why don’t you let us handle that,” Duckworth said. “I think it might be better if any releases about this are funneled through a single source, you know?”

“But-”

“Mr. Harwood, it’s only been a few hours. In a lot of cases we don’t even move on a missing-persons case this quickly, but given some of the circumstances, the fact that it happened at Five Mountains, well, that kind of raised the priority level, if you get what I’m saying.”

I listened.

“The fact is, your wife might just walk in the door tonight and this will all be over. That happens, you know.”

“You think that’s what’s going to happen this time?”

“Mr. Harwood, we don’t know. I’m just saying we might want to give this a few more hours before we issue a release. I’m not saying we won’t, I’m just saying we’ll revisit this in another hour or so.”

“In an hour or so,” I said.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “And thank you for these pictures. This is a real help. Absolutely.”

I found Ethan on the floor, sitting on his haunches, watching Family Guy.

“Ethan, you’re not watching that.” I picked up the remote and killed the TV. “I’ve told you not to watch that!”

He whispered, “I’m sorry.” His lower lip protruded.

It was the second time I’d screamed at him since all of this had started. I took him into my arms, pulled him in close to me. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m sorry.”

I looked into his face and tried to smile. “You okay?”

He nodded, sniffed. “When’s Mommy coming home?” he asked, probably thinking she wouldn’t be so mean to him.

“I just sent some pictures of Mommy to the police so if they see her they can tell her we’re here waiting for her.”

“Why are the police looking for her? Did she rob something?” Worry washed over his face.

“No, she didn’t do anything like that. The police aren’t looking for her because she did a bad thing. They’re looking for her to help her.”

“Help her what?”

“Help her find her way home,” I said.

“She should have taken her car,” Ethan said.

“What?”

“She has the TV map in it.”

The navigation screen.

“I don’t know if it’s that kind of lost,” I said. “You know what I think we should do? I think we should head over to see Nana and Poppa, see what they’re up to.”

“I just want to stay here in case Mom comes home.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “We’ll write her a note so she knows where we are. Would you help me with that?”

Ethan ran up to his room and returned with some blank paper and his box of crayons.

“Can I write it?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

I set him up at the kitchen table. He got his face right down to the paper, watching the path of his crayon. He’d been working on his letters, even though he wasn’t yet in school.

He randomly printed several capital letters, some of them backward.

“Great,” I said. “Now let’s go.” When he wasn’t looking, I wrote at the bottom of the page: Jan. Gone to my parents with Ethan. PLEASE call.

I had to wait while he ran around gathering a different collection of figures and cars. I wanted to get moving, but didn’t have it in me to speak harshly to him again.

I got him belted in once again and we drove across town to my parents’ house. I didn’t often arrive unannounced. I usually gave them some sort of courtesy call. But I knew I couldn’t talk to them on the phone about this.

“When we get there, you go on in and watch TV. I need to talk to Nana and Poppa for a while.”

“But not Family Guy,” Ethan said.

“That’s right,” I said.

My mother happened to be looking out the front window when we pulled into the driveway. Dad was holding the door open by the time Ethan was bounding up the stairs to the porch. He slipped past my father and ran into the house.

Dad stepped out, Mom right behind him. Dad was looking at the car.

“Where’s Jan?” he asked.

I collapsed into my father’s arms and began to weep.