“He is running,” I said.

“He hasn’t checked in at his job since Wednesday afternoon,” Harris said.

“And your parents are no longer answering our calls.”

He stopped near the heavy glass doors, his face grave.

“We have a unit driving past your apartment every two hours,” he said.

“But you need to be careful, Mara.”

“I have my deadbolt,” I said.

“Your father knows where you live,” Harris said.