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“Maybe nothing. I got a perimeter alarm. She’s a few blocks from the house right now.”
Caroline’s voice takes on a harsher tone. “Dammit. I told you we couldn’t put this off. If something happens to her, it’s on you. I swear to shit.”
Real nice, sis. Like I need to feel worse.
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way. If anyone calls you, just be sure to answer.”
“I will. Let me know when you find her. Stay calm. Maybe she’s just taking a walk.”
“Yeah,” I agree, although I don’t believe for a minute she’s taking a walk.
We’ve talked to her about that. If she’s lucid, then she knows to let me know when she’s leaving the house, and she’s supposed to take Gloria, who knows to call me if they’re going somewhere. So if Ma’s going for a walk, she’s not in her right frame of mind.
Which means she might be wandering, looking for something she can’t remember.
When I jump into my Redleg SUV and fire it up, Manilow’s “Looks Like We Made It” blares from the speakers. After quickly silencing it— no offense to Barry, but I need to focus— I order the voice assistant to text Big Al and Tomer to let them know I’ll be back shortly. Then I ring Gloria again, but it goes to voice mail. I try my mom two more times before I give up on the phone calls.
Fuck.
Part of me wonders if this is another reason Boss hired Mia instead of giving me the job. He knows I have had several unexpected absences over the last few months, even if he doesn’t know why.
Nothing excessive. But enough to raise eyebrows. Especially since I’m single and childless.
As I race through town, I check the tracking on my phone for Ma’s location at every red light. She’s still moving, having gotten about a mile from the house.
Dammit.
I should have set the perimeter alarm for a smaller radius around the house. I’ll be changing that for sure. And I think it’s time I install the cameras inside the house so I can check on her. I would have done it by now but didn’t want to invade her privacy to that extent.
My conscience tsks at me.Really, kid?
Fine. I didn’t do it because each time I put something like that in place, it makes what’s happening all the more real.
At the next traffic light, I check her location, and my heart plummets. She’s approaching a major intersection, thus beyond the relative safety of her quiet suburban neighborhood.
No longer concerned about a speeding ticket, I floor it and call 911.
After the dispatcher answers, she asks, “Is your emergency police, fire, medical?”
“Uh, police or medical maybe. Not sure.”
“What’s the situation?”
“My mother is…”
Lost? Wandering? Taking a fucking walk?
“Has your mother been injured, sir? An accident?”
“I don’t know. She has early-onset Alzheimer’s. I got an alert that she’s left the house and is approaching Highway 60 from Maywood Avenue. I’m worried she’s going to get hurt. She knows not to leave the house alone, and she’s not answering her phone. I’m on the way, but I’m still about eight or nine minutes away.”
“Do you have her specific location on your tracker, sir?”
I relay the GPS coordinates.
“We’re putting a call out to all units in the area to be on the lookout. Can I have her description?”
“She’s sixty-two, Caucasian, shoulder-length salt and pepper hair, five foot six, medium build.”
