Pam’s flight arrived in Boston at 9:45 a.m. She looked for Kevin but didn’t immediately spot him. He normally was a stickler for keeping appointments but with the huge crowd around, she figured she’d simply missed seeing him. He probably had elected to go straight to the baggage claim area, after taking one look at the crowd in the concourse. She shook her head; she didn’t have any luggage to claim.

Once she’d located where the luggage from her flight would be disgorged, she kept to the outside and watched for Kevin. Within a few minutes, the first load arrived and people descended upon the carousel like a herd of rabid, determined beavers, each with the sole thought of grabbing their luggage before anyone else. The fact that it was a random delivery and a passenger stood a fifty-fifty chance of their suitcases and bags being on the first load, meant nothing. It was the principle of the thing.

Or at least, that’s what Pam surmised, watching the churning mass of people around the carousel. Once in a while someone would grab somebody else’s bag and there’d be a short but intense tug-of-war between two people equally convinced someone was trying to steal from them. Then one or the other would spot his real luggage or discover that the one he had grabbed had a sticker from Orlando, Florida on the side that shouldn’t have been there and suddenly release his death grip. Often as not, the winner would reel back clutching the suitcase, surprised at the sudden victory.

The second wave of luggage had arrived and been pawed through by several dozen people before Pam began to get an uneasy feeling. This wasn’t like Kevin at all. She couldn’t recall him ever being this late before. She looked around for a phone and had begun to head for an empty phone booth when she heard her name called over the airport loudspeaker. “Courtesy phone call, Pam Whitby. White courtesy phone call.”

She located a white phone and picked it up, identified herself and heard a tinny voice say, “Ms. Whitby? This is Detective Gene Moore. I’m with the Boston Police. I need you to come to the security office at the airport.”

A cold feeling ran up her spine and she found herself saying woodenly, “Something’s happened to Kevin.”

“Ms. Whitby, I’ll fill you in as soon s you get to the security office. If you’re in the baggage claim area, we’re a floor above you. There’ll be some security people around and they can lead to you this office.”

Pam mumbled something that might have been a vague affirmative, replaced the phone and set off at a trot. She pushed by a number of indignant people on an escalator and spotted a security guard almost immediately. He appeared to have been expecting her because without a word, he nodded and led off along the concourse, checking behind himself occasionally to make sure Pam was following.