She's Not Coming Home Read Online Free PDF Page B

an hour later Matt had decided what to tell him.
    ‘Where’s Mommy?’ he asked, scratching his head and yawning.
    ‘Oh, you missed her, sport,’ said Matt, ruffling his hair.
    ‘What?’
    ‘She’s very busy at work right now. She came in late, and had to go in extra early.’
    ‘Will she be back tonight?’
    ‘Should be, sport. Should be.’
    Matt froze for a second, wondering if Nathan would accept what he had said, or ask more awkward questions.
    ‘Okay.’ Nathan turned round and shuffled into the bathroom.
    Matt breathed a sigh of relief. That worked for now, but he would have to tell him more soon. Unless Ruth turned up.
    *****
    Matt and Nathan had breakfast as normal, and set off for Bambinos, then Bank of New England. Matt would be taking the car, a 2008 Toyota Camry, and Nathan skipped a few feet ahead of his father as they walked round to their parking garage. As he climbed into his seat and fiddled with his safety strap, Nathan looked up at Matt.
    ‘Will Mommy be home tonight?’ he asked.
    Matt leaned down and kissed his son on the top of the head. ‘She should be. If she’s not too busy at work.’
    He quickly closed Nathan’s door and climbed into the driver’s seat.  Bambinos was only a two minute ride away, and after Nathan was safely handed over, Matt set off for his office.
    His normal route would be to head east along Cambridge Street, turn onto Court Street at the Government Center; then, negotiating Boston’s infamous one-way streets, he would take a right down Congress Street, left down Water Street onto Milk. Then up India Street to the small parking lot at the back of his branch building. The Bank of New England was situated on State and India. The journey would in normal circumstances take around half an hour – he always wondered why he didn’t walk – but today the streets were gridlocked. According to the traffic reports on WBUR, there had been a collision at 5:40 that morning on the I-93 Expressway between an SUV and a tractor-trailer. Although the debris had been cleared, the knock-on effect had not. Therefore, Matt was parking his Toyota behind the branch at 9:50.
    In spite of the cold, he was hot and flustered, and ran up the steps into the branch. Inside, it seemed quite busy. Unusual for a Wednesday. He hurried over to his desk and sat down.
    ‘Afternoon,’ said a familiar voice.
    Matt looked up and saw Larry Mason, a fellow Personal Banker and one of Matt’s closest colleagues at this branch. He grinned up at Larry.
    ‘Very funny. Traffic’s at a standstill out there. A smash on the 93 apparently.’
    ‘I know,’ Larry replied. ‘Why do you think it’s so busy here? Half the staff haven’t gotten in yet. My nine thirty client hasn’t shown up yet. When’s your first one in?’
    While they were chatting, Matt had logged onto his personal computer.
    ‘Not until ten thirty, thank God,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Gives me a chance to get myself sorted out.’
    ‘Well, if you get any grief from Ms Barber,’ said Larry, ‘ignore it. She only just arrived ten minutes ago herself.’
    ‘Right; thanks for the heads-up.’
    ‘How was the vacation, by the way?’ asked Larry. ‘Do anything particular?’
    ‘Nah. Just a few things around the house.’
    ‘Ruth off too?’
    Matt shook his head. ‘No.’
    ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. Catch up lunchtime?’
    ‘Sure.  See you later.’
    Matt nodded and started to shuffle some paperwork. Once Larry had gone, he put down the paperwork and pulled out his cell phone. He looked around: the part of the branch where his desk was situated was quiet. The longer than normal line of customers was around the teller area. He could see that only two positions were manned: normally there were four. Perhaps the missing two were stuck in traffic. Larry was talking to one of the customers waiting in line, and José Vasquez, the third Personal Banker, was missing.  Larry lived in the Forest Hills district of Boston and used the