The phone rang. Linda O’Connor let it ring. And ring and ring and ring. She knew.
She was sitting in the family room on her blue sofa, as she always did, waiting for Kyle to return to their Pleasanton home. Kyle, 16, had never given her cause to worry, but over the last few weeks, since the start of her son’s Christmas vacation, she had felt a disquiet she could neither define nor shake.
She went upstairs and woke her husband, Steve.
“There is something wrong,” she whispered. “You better get dressed.”